Divided
by Digitallace
Summary: 10 years have passed, and Harry has been missing since the war. Draco wants to forget about a moment from their past, but will that still be possible when he takes a position at Hogwarts? Will memories of Harry haunt him there, or will it be Harry himself
1. Chapter 1 What was I thinking?

What was I thinking

Author's Note: I fixed this chapter on 8/6/08. It was brought to my attention that I hadn't looked it over very carefully and I was ashamed to see all the mistakes I had left. Most certainly there are a few left, but hopefully I have rid it of anything too horrid. Lol. I didn't change the story at all, just made some tense and sentence structure adjustments. Enjoy!

What was I thinking? I had my reservations about taking this new job, but this is just too much. I spent the last ten years deftly avoiding him, yet his green eyes still haunted my dreams, but at least I didn't have to see them in person. They were so much more potent in person. But here he was, his brilliant gemstone eyes boring into my thoughts, breaking through my carefully erected walls. Harry bloody Potter was here, in this room, and he was staring at me.

--

It was mid June when the scroll arrived. The small tawny owl tapped at my study window, and as soon as I saw the Hogwarts seal I almost sent it back without accepting the parchment. However, the ruddy bird had other ideas and bit me as I tried to close the window on it, so I grudgingly accepted the rolled up parchment, but refused to give it a treat. _No one_ gets rewarded for biting a Malfoy.

I threw the scroll on my desk and stared at it for several moments before going back to my potions report. I had to get my current project completed, a cloaking potion for the Ministry, before nightfall. They would want to see my data in the morning.

The Ministry pays well enough, not that I do it for the money. As sole heir to the Malfoy fortune, it's not as if I was running low on Galleons any time soon. My main reason for taking on freelance projects for the Ministry of Magic was the unlimited resources, which are only rivaled by Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The one place I swore I would never go again.

My eyes flicked again to the parchment. "Uhg, I'm never going to get any work done until I read that bloody letter," I groaned.

I reached out hesitantly and broke the seal. I could feel the residual magic waft over me, making sure I was the intended recipient. I must have passed the test, because a moment later words began appearing on the yellowed page in a tight neat handwriting.

_Dear Mr. Malfoy,_

_I hope this letter finds you in good health. It has been brought to my attention the accolades you have earned in the area of potions as late. It so happens that a professorship has become available at our school, and we are hoping to hire a suitable replacement before classes begin in September. You were the first and highest recommended from Minister Shacklebolt, and I would like to extend the position of Potions Master to _you_ before looking further._

_If you would be amendable to a meeting with me, I would like to set up a time that would work best for you. I'm sure you remember our school well enough, though I'm also sure you will find the changes we have made over the last decade to your liking. _

_Please respond with a time in which we can meet. _

_Fond Greetings,_

_Headmistress_

_Minerva McGonagall_

I sighed in exhaustion. A few years ago I would have jumped at this position, but now, I just wasn't sure. I had effectively separated myself from the school, from my past… and from Harry. I knew those walls would remind me of the stolen moment we had there, right before everything went to hell.

I shook off the thought. Harry was gone. No one had seen hide nor hair of the boy in years, though to be fair, I'm sure most people wouldn't even know him if they saw him. He left directly after the war ten years ago, and after a year or so the newspapers stopped covering his disappearance. It was just as well. Seeing the Boy-Who-Conquered on the front page of every newspaper and magazine got tiresome.

I let my thoughts wander, curious as to what he was doing, ten years later. No doubt whatever it was it was more exciting than developing a cloaking potion for the Ministry. Maybe this career change was exactly what I needed. I could surely still work on the potion in my spare time, and the change of pace might be just what I need to get out of this rut.

Yes, rut. My days here at the manor were nothing if not a bore, breakfast alone every morning, two hours in the laboratory and then tea with mother, two more hours in the laboratory, and then lunch alone. The evening was spent in my study until dinner, which occasionally would be attended by father as well, but usually just mother. After dinner I would read, or occasionally sneak out of the manor to watch a film. It was my single muggle indulgence, but even so, my parents would not be pleased. It also allowed me to keep up appearances.

In just a few short years I would be thirty, and that was the cut off for my 'youth-some expenditures' as father called them. I would be forced to marry someone of their choosing if I didn't select a bride of my own soon, someone befitting of the Malfoy name, and someone who would bare a Malfoy heir.

The biggest problem with that is that I couldn't possibly find someone I liked enough, let alone loved. Oh sure, there were plenty of available pureblood beauties that would beg for the opportunity to marry a Malfoy, however I wasn't attracted to a single one. The only person I have ever wanted is distinctly out of reach.

I've been focusing on forgetting Harry Potter for ten years, but nothing, not even the Gryffindor Golden Boy ghosting the corridors, was going to keep me from this job.

--

"It was kind of you to offer the professorship, Headmistress," I said with my most polite Malfoy smile.

She nodded and smiled tightly. "You came very highly recommended, Mr. Malfoy. We're only too pleased to have you here."

"The pleasure is all mine. I have missed this school more than I ever thought possible," I replied honestly. I had carefully avoided it for years, donating money for the rebuilding of the castle after the final battle, but not actually setting foot on the property.

Her slowly graying eyebrow shot up at the last remark. "Oh? I was led to believe that you would most likely turn the position own immediately. In fact, I was surprised to get your letter saying you would meet with me at all."

It was my turn to look surprised. My fear of Hogwarts was not on open display. Fear is a weakness, and part of my wanting to accept the position here was to overcome that fear. However, I had been cautiously hiding the phobia from everyone, saying nothing but good things about the school, there was a Malfoy wing, dedicated in my name for all the money I donated, for Merlin's sake. Who was slandering me? "Interesting, I never recall having any open animosity for the school. Can I ask who made such a suggestion?"

The Headmistress was immediately defensive, but hid it fairly well. "Oh, just a staff member here. They felt certain that by your lack of visiting the school, there was something keeping you away. Clearly that was nonsense."

I watched her as I nodded, and she didn't seem completely convinced. Who was this infernal staff member? "Clearly," I replied, certain that she wouldn't tell me, at least not at this juncture. Oh well, if I took the position here, I was sure I could figure it out on my own.

"Well, I am still very glad you agreed to this meeting, Mr. Malfoy."

"Please, call me Draco. Mr. Malfoy is my father," I said with a smile. It was true enough, I loathed being called Mr. Malfoy, it only reminded me of my upcoming responsibilities. It wouldn't be long until I truly deserved that title, as soon as I married and produced an heir.

"Very well, then you must call me Minerva," she replied, looking several years younger as she smiled. "You must let me give you the grand tour and then I can explain the professorship."

I grinned; this had been the moment I was waiting for. I was fairly eager to see all the changes that had taken place in my childhood school. "That sounds perfect."

We walked the castle corridors and chatted about our memories of how the school had been before. Not too much had changed structure wise, they were fairly careful to conserve the building and replicate the overall look of it. In fact, had I not been in the final battle, I wouldn't have known it had been damaged at all.

Still, some things were vastly different. The biggest difference was that the only place the founding houses now existed were in the school Quidditch teams. The year after the school was rebuilt, new students lined up to be sorted, but the sorting hat refused. Apparently during the war it had come to a decision that if Slytherin and Gryffindor had not been natural enemies, than the destruction would have been far less. I couldn't agree, but then I couldn't disagree either. Who knows what would have happened if the likes of, say for instance, Harry and I were in the same dorm room.

So now, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin were only Quidditch team names, and any student could try out for their favorite one. There was still rivalry, but it was healthier and well managed.

We rounded the corner, still on the ground floor and came up to the hospital wing. A slight witch, probably my age, was sitting in an office just inside the entry. She had her back turned to me, but she had very long chocolate brown hair and it was very wavy and a little wild looking. Minerva knocked on the open office door and cleared her throat. The young witch turned around and looked up at the Headmistress with a grin, then her eyes drifted to me and they went wide.

I'm sure mine must have looked quite large also, for I recognized her immediately, even after these ten long years. "Granger?" I sputtered. I was usually more eloquent than that, but this was a huge surprise. She looked exactly the same, yet different. She looked like a mature polished version of her seventeen year old self. She had already blossomed into a lovely girl by her final year in school, not that I would have admitted that to anyone, let alone her. Now, however, she looked older, wiser (which was saying something) and had an air of confidence that she didn't possess before the war.

"Malfoy," she responded. Her tone was polite but abrupt, and I wondered, not for the first time, if Harry had ever told anyone what had happened between us. "To what do we owe this honor?" she asked, not sounding like it was an honor at all.

Before I could speak Minerva answered her question. "Draco is entertaining the idea of becoming our schools Potion Master." As she spoke she shot Hermione a stern look, but it was matched by the younger witch, who somehow looked just as stern.

"I see. Does Har- professor Evans know this?" she asked, stumbling over her words. The look on the face looked incongruent with her mistake.

"Professor Evans gave me his approval to send the request to Mr. Malfoy," she replied. They had apparently decided to ignore me, which was usually unacceptable behavior, but I thought I might glean more information if I just stayed quiet.

"Minerva, you and I both know that he didn't think…" Hermione was cut off by a glare from the Headmistress that the younger Witch was unable to match. Apparently practice made perfect, and McGonagall had several dozen years on Granger in the 'glare' department.

"Well, we'll be off now. I just wanted to show Draco the hospital wing." Hermione only nodded but she lingered in the doorway until we turned and walked back down the corridor. A glance back saw her scurrying off in the other direction.

I couldn't think of a single person I knew with the surname Evans, let alone someone with that name who would be opposed to my working here. It all left an unsavory taste in my mouth. "Minerva, who is Professor Evans?"

She seemed to choke on something before she responded. "Oh, Mr. Evans is the Defense Professor, has been for several years now."

"Really?" That was news to me. I was under the impression that no one could hold the position for more than a year. "I thought, well, we were never able to keep a professor long in that course."

She nodded curtly. "Yes, Tom Riddle had cursed the position, but since his death, the curse seems to be broken."

"If you don't mind me asking, why would he bother cursing a professorship? That seems unusual, even for him."

"Oh, it was simple really, he wanted the position, and when Albus declined to give it to him, he cursed it. Foolish really, but so were a lot of things Riddle did." She like everyone else seemed hesitant to say the name 'Voldemort'. It was fine by me, I hated the name, made me shudder with the thought that I almost followed my father's foolish footsteps and became a Death Eater.

I didn't say anything further as we finished the tour. She explained the curriculum and the daily class schedule, the amenities and the pay of the position, which was actually more than I had expected. It seemed like an obvious choice to me; at least until I caught sight of a thin man, with messy black hair walking down a corridor, his back turned toward me.

"Harry," I whispered, more to myself, and turned to ask Minerva who it was. It reminded me so much of Potter that it made me feel ill. I must have looked it too, because when Minerva looked back to me she looked concerned.

When I looked back down that haunted corridor there was no one there. It was all I could do to refrain from smacking myself in the forehead. What was I doing here? This place terrified me. I couldn't accept the position, there was no way.

Though, if nothing else, that was the exact reason I had to accept the position. Potter was gone, probably dead, or off in America or something. I needed to get over this fear, and a year living in these halls could certainly do that. I could commit to a year, if it was still too much after that, then I could reassess things.

"Well Minerva, this seems to be just what I need. I think you have found yourself a new Potions Master," I said at last, hoping my voice wasn't breaking as much as I had suspected.

Her eyes lit up and her smile was suddenly genuine. "Brilliant. I'm so pleased, Draco."

We ended the tour outside the front entrance and she promised to send me the required paperwork via owl later in the month. I left, apperating back to the manor grounds and felt immediately better. Something seemed right about my decision, my new career. I felt like I was on the right path, finally.

--

Minerva made her way back into her office, quite pleased at Draco's acceptance of the position. The Minister practically sang his praises and she knew he would make an excellent professor, maybe even as good, or better than Severus had been. She also had an ulterior motive though, one concerning her favorite professor and previous student, and she only hoped that her meddling didn't backfire. Albus had done it all the time, but she was less trained in the ways of manipulation, and she would have to learn as she went along.

She stopped short as she walked into her office. "James, what are you… can I interest you in some tea?" she hardly ever lost her focus, but something about this man, sitting in an armchair across from her own desk, always made her flustered. Though he was an extremely powerful wizard it wasn't his power she feared, it was his feelings. She didn't wish to upset him, for she loved him like a son. She only had to keep reminding herself that what she was doing was in his best interest.

Her eyes flicked to the portrait of her predecessor, and she found herself wondering how many times Dumbledore had needed to remind himself of those same words.

The young man's eyes followed her gaze and he groaned. "I know that look," he started, "you're planning to meddle aren't you?"

She tried to look affronted, but that wouldn't have fooled him. "Draco accepted the position."

James' mouth dropped open in surprise. "Already? Just like that? What did you do?" he asked accusingly.

She did manage to look affronted then, though she had several things planned in the event that Draco did not easily accept the offer, but she didn't need to use a single one of her tactics; he had surprised her in taking the professorship at once. "I did nothing but make the offer. I'll be sending him the paperwork forthwith."

James looked at her incredulously. "Really? Does he know I'm here then?"

She shook her head curtly. "No, neither Miss Granger nor myself spoke a word, but you may wish to have a talk with Hermione, she almost said so right in front of him." She looked down for a moment before she continued. "Are you certain you don't want him to know? Harry, perhaps you have been in hiding for too long now."

He glared at her, but not wholeheartedly. "I just want to be left alone and he's the last person I would want to know I'm still alive. You know all this Minerva." Harry sighed and leaned back in his chair.

"Don't you think it's a little late for that, he'll certainly recognize you the minute he arrives," she demanded, looking over the man in front of her, he looked exactly the same to her, but at her age, ten years was nothing.

"Doubtful. Draco hasn't seen me for ten years; I'm a bit different now. Plus, he was never that observant even when he did know me," he got up and walked toward the door, stopping only a moment to speak. "It's James Evans now, Minerva. No more Harry Potter and no more meddling." He shot her a playful glare and left.

She nodded ruefully and watched him leave. This would be a touchy case, but she was certain this would pull Harry out of the miserable place he had been burying himself all these years. Someone had to break through his walls, and from what she heard; Draco could be the one to do it.

Author's Note: Please review, and if you like this story please check out Gilded Soul (my other D/H fic, which as of today is complete.


	2. Chapter 2 Ruined

Chapter 2 Author's Note: I'm happy to be past the sadness of the last chapters of Gilded Soul and onto a new adventure. I changed the first chapter of Divided just this morning, because it was lovingly pointed out that I didn't look it over before I posted it and it was riddled with errors. I fixed most, though probably not all of them and reposted it. I didn't change any of the story line though, so no need to re-read unless desperate to find my repairs. :) Chapter 2

I really needed to stop pacing. There would be a giant fissure in the floor where I was trailing back and forth soon if I didn't cut it out. Unfortunately my brain and my legs weren't speaking. I did that a lot when I was upset - pacing. It usually let me focus my thoughts on the issue at hand, but this time it wasn't enough, not remotely.

This was too big a problem.

I've been expertly avoiding the entire wizarding population for ten long years, and now he was about to ruin it. Draco Fucking Malfoy is going to ruin my life… again. Why couldn't he just leave me alone? Why couldn't he just ignore the professorship and let me live my life here in solitude?

I'm happy here, the long-standing professor in defense against the dark arts. It was as if I was born for this career, born to teach children to defend themselves against dark wizards. I only did it myself for the first time at age eleven, right?

I had the respect that I earned as Professor Evans, not as Harry Potter. I loathed that name as much as I loathed Voldemort. It brought undue fame. Destruction and death seemed to fall in its wake. I thought it would be best to leave it behind when I left after the war.

It was a hard choice to leave at all, harder on the people I loved than on myself, but still difficult. I had seen so much death, so much pain that I just had to leave. I had to get away from this place before I lost my mind to the grief.

Hermione and Ron took it the worst, thinking that I was running away from them and that they might never see me again. Mrs. Weasley almost forbid it, but I think she saw the haunted look in my eyes and finally even she conceded that it was the best thing for me at the time.

I might have been okay, but for that final moment, the night of the memorial services, the night Draco plunged the final knife into my already fractured heart. I could have withstood it all, the pain, the death, the heartache even the unwanted fame and glory, but not after that night. Not after what Draco did.

And now, here he is, practically sitting on my doorstep begging to come in. I should have just told her no, I should have just let Minerva ask the next best person. I'm too unselfish for my own good sometimes. All I could think about were the students, and that they would get a better education from him, then anyone else.

Although I wasn't completely unselfish. There was also the fact - or at least I thought it was a fact - that Draco wouldn't come near this place ever since the war, let alone work here. I wondered ever since the moment that McGonagall told me his decision what made him change his mind.

For that matter, I wondered what made him feel that way to begin with. He obviously loved the school, donated boatloads of money to it, but he hadn't set even one pale foot on the grounds until that day. Most likely it was just the war, it made a lot of people uneasy to walk through a battlefield.

No matter what his reasoning though, he defied it in one fail swoop, and I could feel my new life crumbling away at the edges. The day I saw him trailing beside the Headmistress in the corridors I almost lost my mind. I had to practically run down the hall to keep him from seeing me, and even still, I could have sworn he whispered my name. That elegant pink tongue calling out… Harry.

"Ugh! This is ridiculous." It's only a few hours now before the staff orientation, and I need to pull myself together. He won't even recognize me, and as James Evans, I can easily keep out of his way. I hardly see any of the other staff members on a regular basis; I can avoid him easily enough in a castle this large.

Easy.

--

"Harry, stop pacing you're making me nervous." Hermione shot me a scathing look, but I returned it just as quickly.

"Stop calling me that! I hadn't heard it in nearly eight years, and now you and Minerva can't seem to keep it to yourself. If you slip up in front of him so help me Merlin I will…"

"You'll what?" she interrupted. "Flog me? Hex me? Doubtful, _James_. You and I both know you would do nothing to hurt me." The look on her face did not diminish, and only intensified when she said my name. She hated it, not the name really, but just that I was hiding. She thought I should accept my honor and live like a normal wizard. What she never understood was that Harry Potter could never be a normal wizard. I'd tried that.

I rolled my eyes at her and threw myself roughly onto the tufted loveseat in my sitting room. "Better?" I grumbled.

"Much," she nodded in reply. "Now, Harry, I was thinking. If you really have any chance of fooling Malfoy you'll have to change your eye color."

"No," I said it before I even realized what I was saying. It was a big deal to me though; my eyes were the one feature I carried of my mother's. "He probably doesn't even know what color my eyes are, Mione."

She chewed on the bottom lip and it made me fidget. Whenever she chewed on her lip like that she was either lying, or thinking something she didn't want to say out loud. I wasn't sure I wanted to know about it either way. "Do you know the color of his?" she asked, seemingly polite and nonchalant, but I knew the difference.

"No," I lied.

I knew exactly what color his eyes were. It all depended on his mood, sometimes, for instance when he said the word 'mudblood', they were a dull gray, slightly hazy even. Then other times, like when he was racing me for the snitch, they were silver, very metallic looking. When he was really angry, they took on the coloring of ice, almost white, but with flecks of intense stormy light, and then that once, the time I remember them the clearest, they were a smoldering pewter, so dark, like shimmering mercury.

"Harry, what if all this was just a big misunderstanding?"

Okay, now she had my attention. "How so?"

"What if the ki- the _incident_ wasn't exactly how you keep playing it out in your head, what if…"

I laughed, and it was harsh and unnerving even to me. "Hermione, I remember exactly what happened. I'll likely never forget it as long as I live."

She didn't like my answer. I learned not to leave any room for doubt when it came to that conversation, otherwise she would argue with me until she was blue and I was livid. I was trying to keep my temper in check; in a couple hours I would need all the self-control I could muster to sit at the same table with _him_. "I won't change my eye color, but if you have any other suggestions, I'm open to them." There, smooth change of subject, she probably didn't even notice.

Okay, so she noticed, and the look on her face told me it wouldn't be the last time she would bring it up, but I already knew that before I cut her off. "Fine, I still think that's the most Harry-like physical trait, but if you feel certain –"

"I do."

"Then I can' think of anything else. You look like an other ordinary wizard."

I nodded, satisfied. It was a long shot that he would have recognized me anyhow, but it wouldn't hurt to take any precaution needed. If hundreds of students over the years never recognized me, Draco stood a slim chance of doing so.

It's not even that I looked that different, it was more that it had been ten years, and almost two of those had been spent in exile. You could still faintly see the Gryffindor boy that I had been, but now it was rougher, like someone had gone and rubbed out the adolescent and replaced him with a hardened cynical man. I guess that wasn't even too far from the truth.

My power grew stronger every day; I haven't needed a wand since I came back. I still use it in class, but sometimes I don't even carry it around with me. Minerva says that wandless magic is an abnormal trait, but there isn't much about me that _isn't_ abnormal.

I love this school, but love in people is nearly impossible for me. Hermione sometimes seems like her heart is breaking when she looks at me, and I wish I could help her, tell her that I'm fine, but she'd never believe it.

--

I watched him approach from my quarters in Gryffindor tower. Technically I was no longer allowed to call it that, but I can't seem to make myself stop. Maybe I should be less hard on Minerva and Hermione for still trying to call me Harry. Nah.

He still looked the same to me, tall, thin and haughty, his blonde hair longer than it had been in school but otherwise the same. Granted he was about forty meters below me. Maybe up close he would look very different. Either way, I was about to find out.

I made my way form my lofty quarters down to the great hall, where some of the staff members already gathered chatting amongst themselves. With a quick wave of my hand the entrance door opened and everyone filed inside.

The head table was already set up for us; sterling goblets featuring the Hogwarts seal lined the front of each place setting. I walked quickly up to my own, to the right of McGonagall's chair, and took a seat. I didn't wish to be standing and milling about when _he_ walked in.

My goblet immediately filled with a deep red liquid that smelled like elderberry wine. It was my favorite, though the House Elves surely knew that. Others started taking their seats and I groaned inwardly when I realized that the chair to my right was left available for our new potions master. I was going to hex Mcgonagall for this, straight into next Tuesday.

It only took moments; my breath froze in my chest as I saw him. He was walking side by side next to the Headmistress and looking at the faces lined up at the table. I looked down at my goblet, swishing the liquid around in circles, trying not to look up and meet his gaze.

I could feel it though, like a vise clamping onto my skull. He was staring at me, and wouldn't look away. I remained vigilant, and was rewarded by him removing his steely gaze from me. Only momentarily however, because he soon proceeded to sit beside me, sliding out his chair and gracefully occupying the chair just a hairs breadth away from where I sat.

He smelled sweet, like almonds and lilac. I lightly shook my head to chase away the thoughts. There was nothing about this man sitting beside me that was sweet. Nothing. He leaned in toward me and even though I wasn't looking directly at him, I could feel his smirk.

He held out his hand, pale and tender looking, and extended it for me to shake. I didn't look over at him, suddenly afraid of what Hermione had said about my eyes. Instead I took his hand, but continued to look down. His hand was soft, and pliant wrapped around mine and it raised the hairs on the back of my neck to be touching him. "You must be Professor Evans I presume?" It was more of a statement than a question, but I nodded once and finally looked at him. I couldn't help myself.

His eyes were silver now, and he looked as if he were trying to figure something out. His pale eyebrow was arched just slightly and his mouth was turned into an off-putting smile, a look I had never really seen on him before. His features were just as sharp as I remembered them, his skin just as smooth, but his jaw was a little squarer, just slightly. His hair was darker, not as pale as it was in school, but a little more golden like his mothers. He looked genuinely perplexed as he studied me in the same manner as I did him.

"James… you can call me James," I said at last, still gripping his hand in mine. He looked down at our clasped hands and his smile quirked a touch higher. I dropped my hand immediately and looked back up into his face. It was then that I saw it, the recognition that crossed his delicate features when he looked into my eyes.

I turned my head abruptly and blinked three times, knowing that when I opened my eyes the forth time, they would be closer to blue than green. How handy wandless magic was. Some trick of the light I would tell him… if he asked.

He didn't, he just sat there, startlingly rigid until I turned back around and gave him my best puzzled look, making sure he caught the color of my eyes this time. I hadn't needed to bother though, for that was exactly where they went the moment I turned back to look at him. When he saw the blue, he shook his head slightly and turned to the person on his right, Professor Flitwick.

Crisis averted. Damn Hermione for always being right.

--

I took a deep breath, looking past the gate toward the castle. My first day, I could do this, I was a Malfoy, I could do anything. I straightened myself up and walked toward the school. I felt like I was being watched. Looking around casually I didn't see anyone, so I just kept walking.

The Entrance hall was empty, but the large double doors leading into the Great Hall were open, and I could see light trickling out from the doorway. My heart was thudding in a steady rhythm as I walked slowly forward. From my peripheral I spotted the Headmistress, making her way over to the hall from the other direction. "Mr. Malfoy," she called lightly as she made her way over to me. "I'm so pleased you could make it."

I nodded slightly. "Of course, think nothing of it," I replied.

"Excellent, well tonight I will have someone show you to your new quarters," we were approaching the large double doors now and I could see the long sweeping head table, packed with professors and other staff members, " but for now, you can take a seat up there next to professor Evans," she said politely, pointing out the figure to the right of her own chair.

I nodded and she took her leave, walking quickly up to her seat. I took my time looking over the many faces there, trying to see if there was anyone besides Granger that I recognized. Then my eyes drifted back to Evans, something about him was distantly familiar.

He had thick messy black hair, which instantly reminded me of Harry, so I shook the thought away. Plenty of people have messy black hair, I was certain of it. Severus for instance had messy black hair, although his was also quite greasy, and Evans hair was definitely _not_ greasy. In fact, this was almost certainly the same bloke I had seen in the corridors on my last visit.

He was scruffy looking and slightly unshaven, making him seem a bit older than I had originally guessed. His skin was tanned, though not much, but a far cry from my own pale flesh. He looked rugged and a little worn, as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. His clothing was muggle, but suited him nicely. I could tell even from this vantage point that he was fit.

I took my seat beside him, noticing that he smelled faintly of parchment and something else, something that reminded me of my childhood days here. I racked my brain until I could come up with it, and then it finally hit me, he smelled like flying, like the Quidditch pitch on a warm spring evening. I had to stop myself from leaning in to take in more of the fragrance.

He was looking everywhere else but me, and it started grating on my nerves. Who did he think he was? I took a deep breath – marveling in the scent again – and extended my hand for him to shake.

He didn't look at my face as he took my hand, which I found odd, but not as odd as the familiar electric thrill that ran down my spine when he touched me. I groaned inwardly at the idea that I was destined to be attracted to only scruffy black haired wizards. This predilection did not bode well for me.

I suddenly wanted nothing more than for him to look it me, really look at me. "You must be Professor Evans I presume?" I asked, though I already knew the answer. I thought for a moment he was going to continue to be rude and only nod, but then he finally looked over at me.

I felt like I must be going crazy, the resemblance to Harry was uncanny. His skin was soft, but shadowed with stubble; his hair was black as pitch and cut in a jagged mess that fell around his face haphazardly, curling around his ears and at the base of his neck. His mouth was curved into a crooked smile as he studied me. He wore a vintage muggle tee and a black on black pinstripe blazer instead of the traditional wizard robes.

I didn't understand, aside from the reminders of Harry, I felt sure I had never met this man in my life, yet I felt like I should know him.

"James… you can call me James," he said, distracting me from my scrutiny. He squeezed my hand slightly and it brought my attention down to his hand, slightly rough in my own. He went rigid for a moment and dropped my hand, looking back up to my face. I could see a slow blush creep across his cheeks and it made me grin.

Aside from the lack of round obnoxious glasses covering up those brilliant green eyes, he would have been a dead ringer for Harry.

It was then that it hit me, like a slap across the face. His eyes, he had hauntingly beautiful green eyes. I could cast aside all the other minor similarities, but there was no way that two different people could possess those eyes. These eyes that floated through my most vivid dreams and nightmares, these eyes that had once stared down Voldemort, these eyes that broke away all my defenses.

I wanted to reach out and grab him, pull him to me, ask him why he left, beg him to come back to me…those eyes ruined me.

A moment later I was snapped out of my reverie when he curtly looked away. I had noticed the odd shock that registered through his face when my mouth must have been gaping open, but I didn't bother to think about it when I had _him_, Harry, sitting right beside me.

I was about to reach out, grab his arm and turn him back to me, when he turned back to me on his own. My eyes immediately flicked back to his, but I was flooded with disappointed.

I was mistaken, his eyes were blue, a startling lovely shade of blue, but only blue. I had been projecting my wishes upon this hapless victim of my desire. Poor Professor Evans, I would need to make a point to be less odd around him in the future. I shook the thoughts away as I turned to the tiny professor on my other side, letting Evans go back to speaking with Mcgonagall.

This was going to be a long year.

Author's Note: I hope to update this story as often as I did Gilded Soul, but this one might be a touch slower because I am trying to make these chapters longer. Remember, send a review, save a faerie.


	3. Chapter 3 Doubtful

Author's Note: I know everyone feels a bit left in the dark as to Harry & Draco's past, but it's intentional, so please bear with me. All will be revealed in due time. wink. Also, due to a couple of firm demands, I have invested in a beta for this story!. **Xsinister** my very clever and quick (who could ask for anything more in a beta?) beta has agreed to assist me with this new story. Many thanks Alicia!

**Chapter 3**

"James, would you be so kind as to show Mr. Malfoy - I'm sorry, _Draco_, to his quarters?" Minerva asked, looking behind me to Malfoy, who shot her a look, reminding her to use his first name. I wanted to roll my eyes, but instead I just glared at her like a petulant child. I knew it would do nothing to relieve me of the duty, but it wouldn't hurt to make her understand how much I hated her right then.

I turned around to address Draco, as politely as I could stomach, and the Headmistress stifled a smile. His close proximity to me made all my nerve endings stand at attention. It was only a brief miss, I realized, that he hadn't recognized me before, but it seemed that Minerva was intent on making me stay in his company until he did.

It seemed I was going to have to throttle her.

"Oh, and James, you and Draco will take the first Hogsmeade weekend chaperone in three weeks," she called over her shoulder. It took all my self-control not to hex her right then.

"This way," I said, motioning for him to follow me. I walked quickly toward the dungeons, making my way carefully through the labyrinth of dark tunnels. Draco followed silently behind me, never uttering a word, and I found myself wondering what he was thinking.

At the dark mahogany door, I stopped and knocked three times. It opened as if of it's own accord and I ushered Draco through it ahead of me. I wanted to stay near the exit, in case things got out of hand.

The room was nice enough, yet obviously underground. I couldn't fathom having no window to look out of In the main room was a sitting area and, much like mine, it had a large fireplace at one end, two armchairs and a loveseat. There was a desk to one side, flanked by bookshelves, already stuffed with things that Draco had sent ahead of him.

On the wall with the fireplace were two doors, one that would lead to a bedroom and one that would lead to a private bath. It mimicked my own quarters in every way, except that where mine was mostly deep burgundy silks and rich cherry woods, this room was dark green velvets and painted black furnishings.

I didn't like the idea that we were living in twin worlds on opposite sides of the castle.

That room gave me the chills. It was the former quarters of my old professor, and even though Snape and I had never seen eye to eye, he had protected me for all of my teenage life. These quarters only served to remind me how wrong I had been about him. He had been an honest and true friend to Dumbledore, and I had discovered it only too late.

"Here we are," I muttered, "Far cry from Malfoy Manor, I bet?"

His attention, which had been previously admiring the room, snapped back to me. I hoped my eyes still held the glamour charm I had placed on them. He looked curious about me, and I only wanted to distill that curiosity.

"Do I know you?" he asked finally. Oh no, there it was, the moment when he would pinpoint me as the missing boy hero.

"Doubtful," I replied, summoning all of my ability to deceive. It was not really a lie; back in school he didn't know me at all, not really.

He still seemed puzzled. "It's just that you seem so familiar to me… how do you know about Malfoy Manor?"

"Who doesn't?" I snorted. Again I spoke the truth, in a roundabout sort of way.

"Right," he responded, looking dejected, as if I would just come out and say, "Oh, I only know about the manor because I'm Harry Potter." Fat chance. He'd have to try harder than that.

As if he heard my thoughts he stepped a bit closer, scrutinizing my every detail. "Would you like to stay for tea?"

The question caught me off guard, and I had almost agreed. Almost. "No… erm… I think I should be getting back to my own room."

"Oh?" he drawled, "Is there a curfew for the staff? Minerva didn't mention-"

"No," I interrupted. "Nothing like that, it's just that this room makes me uncomfortable." Oh, why did I say that? I had no way to explain that statement without mentioning Snape.

"Really? Why is that?" The blonde looked around, as if trying to find something ghastly that would make him uncomfortable as well.

I laughed lightly. "Nothing like that, just, you know…dungeons." I shuddered for dramatic effect and he smiled.

Suddenly I only wanted to keep him smiling. I was going to kill Minerva.

--

Evans stood in front of me, his back leaning against the door, his retreat. I had no idea what his issue with me was; he even admitted to not knowing me. Actually, when I thought of it, he said that _I_ didn't know _him_, a subtle but distinct difference.

It was too much. There were too many similarities in his mannerisms, in his posture, in his face. I had been studying him all the way down here, watching him walk – the same way that Harry did.

If he wasn't Harry, than he was his doppelganger. I was sick of this game, something was off and I wanted to find out what it was.

"Has anyone told you, you look just like Harry Potter?" I asked, waiting to see his reaction.

"Really?" he replied, obviously taken aback. "Did you go to school with him?"

I nodded, still watching intently. "Yes, he was a thorn in my side most of the time, but in the end…" I let my voice trail off and it had the desired effect. He leaned slightly toward me as if trying to hear my final words.

"In the end?" he asked, obviously more curious than he should have been.

"In the end, it was something more, something much more," I sighed, letting the words sink in and find their mark. "I've been looking for him for a long time."

He paled - significantly. In fact, at that moment he might have been paler than I was. I looked at him closely again, and I could feel him backing away from me, reaching for the doorknob.

I raised my wand to his chest and watched how his eyes flicked down to it and then back to my face, his eyes which were most certainly green. How had he done that before?

"It's you isn't it?" I said, willing myself to stay calm and try to make sense. I had searched for him for years, wishing to come across him just once, so that I could ask all my questions. Now that I seemed to have him here, they all eluded me.

He didn't answer; he just stared at me with his haunting green eyes, glaring, as if he could set me on fire with his thoughts alone. Finally I saw his chest rise and fall and he leaned back, almost slumping against the closed door to my room. "Are you proud of yourself then? Got it all figured out? The Ministry is probably still offering a reward," he sulked.

I suddenly couldn't breathe. My eyes started to dry out, I was afraid to blink in case it would all go away the minute I shut my eyes. "You…I… Harry?" I never remembered being less articulate in my life. I just watched the boy, the man, looking down at the floor, his black hair hanging down into his face, obscuring his eyes.

He took another breath and when he did finally look up, his eyes were cold and defiant. He stood up straighter, his dark jeans sliding against his muscular legs. "Why do you care anyway? Why couldn't you just leave me alone?" his voice was pleading me to just walk away and forget him, ignore that I found him at all, and go back home to the manor.

It was too late for that now.

"How could you ask me that? After everything-" I shouted, my anger at him leaving and disappearing now the most prevalent thing in my mind.

"Don't!" Harry shouted back, for I knew now without a doubt that it was Harry, his eyes blazed with fury. "Don't you dare even speak about it, you have no right."

That caught me off guard, making me stumble a little. I had spent the last ten years in a half-mourning stage, grieving the loss of something that was never really mine to begin with. But there was Harry; obviously livid over something I couldn't quite explain. What had him so angry? It was him who left, not me.

"Harry," I whispered, suddenly aware that I should be afraid of his anger. The candles in the room flickered in and out with the power coursing though the air, and I knew that power was not connected to my wand.

"Don't. Say. My. Name." Harry bit out, his words scalding hot with menace.

I was beginning to get pissed off. How dare he? After vanishing without a word for ten years, ten fucking long, agonizing years, and he had the audacity to tell me not to say his name? My Merlin, I was a Malfoy, no one tells a Malfoy what to do. "Harry, I have every right to know-"

There he was cutting me off again, his face red with anger. "You have no rights with me _Malfoy_," he spat, making my surname sound like a particularly nasty four letter word.

He whirled on me and had his hand gripping my chin fiercely, pressing me against the wall beside the door. His eyes were intense, a dark and smothering green, almost black. His voice when he spoke was softer than his eyes, but no less pain riddled. "I don't know how you found me, but just forget that you did. _Please_… just leave me alone."

It was most likely the please that did it, made me think I stood a chance of getting him back somehow. So I leaned in, pressing my body against his, and I could feel him shudder. I knew that I had the exact effect on him that he had on me. I could feel his want like a palpable force, blistering my skin.

For a brief moment, I thought I had succeeded. He seemed to press back, still holding my jaw, but the grip became looser and his hand moved to cup my face, almost reverently. His scent washed over my tongue, sun, grass, air and power. I wanted so badly to lean in, to take those few extra centimeters and capture his lips.

Before I even felt the shift, he was gone.

Like it never happened, I found myself alone in my quarters, the door still swinging closed behind him. I could still feel the imprint of his fingertips on my face, still smell his lingering fragrance on my robes.

I slumped to the ground, not quite certain what I was submitting myself to by continuing to stay in the castle. Harry obviously wanted nothing to do with me, and my delusions of a happy reunion were crumbling away in front of my eyes.

I was so close.

Could I give up now? Could I walk away and go back to the manor, knowing that he was here, just barely out of my reach? The object of my desire was pacing about on the fringes of my grasp, staying just far enough away to drive me slowly insane.

I was so close.

There was no way I could let this go, not until I had all my questions answered at least. I would ride out the storm, even if it got me committed, which at that point was a strong possibility.

--

I walked as quickly as I could, out and away from the dungeons, away from Draco. I silently berated myself for falling into Minerva's little trap. What would she do if I decided to quit? If I left my post at Hogwarts and disappeared again - I made a point to ask her that question.

I couldn't move fast enough; even though I knew he wasn't foolish enough to follow me, I had been wrong before, and I wasn't taking another chance. Students would begin arriving tomorrow and I had to get a grip on my anger. I wouldn't risk hurting an innocent teenager just because my worst nightmare had come true.

How could I have let him get so close? The minute he identified me I should have run – run screaming. But no, I thought I could reason with him, get him to leave, maybe even keep my secret.

At that point, even my secret didn't matter. I would take a thousand Rita Skeeter interviews in exchange for not having to deal with just the one Malfoy.

How did I get myself into this mess? I almost let him – no, no, I wouldn't let my mind go there. If he had, would I have kissed him back? Surely I wasn't that daft?

I stopped abruptly and slammed my fist into the stone of the corridor to end my thought process. It wasn't safe or healthy to think about those things. I got away; I left before it went too far, before he was able to ruin me again. That's what was important.

--

I didn't bother to heal my broken hand all the way. I sat in front the fireplace, watching the flames licking against the brick interior. I flexed my hand a couple times, feeling my magic healing the bones back together, but not letting it trickle over my skin.

I left the cuts and the bruises on my knuckles as a reminder not to get too close again. I couldn't let his sweet scent wash over me, because deep down, I knew that scent was false. Draco had nothing he could promise me, and nothing he would.

My mind automatically wandered to the words that sealed my exile. I repeated those words like a mantra, never letting anyone get through my walls.

"_Doubtful. It's only sex after all."_

Even as I threw the first word back at him earlier, it still rung true in my ear, like a death sentence. Just that one word sent my whole heart out of balance, the rest of the statement shattering it to the ground. I hadn't even realized how much I adored him until it was thrown in my face like some childish suggestion.

It was too much. After the battles, after the war, after I lost so many friends and loved ones, after I saved _his_ life… it was just too much to take.

Not that I should have expected any different, he was a Malfoy after all, incapable of real human emotions.

Nevertheless, I had to leave. I wasted months just trying to get over the searing burn in my chest, then even longer trying to erase his face from my mind altogether. Repressing the memory of the good times was the easiest part. After the way it ended it was easy to pretend like it hadn't even happened.

Until tonight.

Until I felt his lithe body pressed against me, his sweet breath ghosting over my face, his soft full lips begging me to take them.

I flexed my hand again, wincing at the pain of it, letting it drive the impossible thoughts from my brain, until I felt lost, desolate. Those were feelings I was used to, feelings I was comfortable with.

I had to find a way to avoid him. My single thread of happiness – no, not happiness really, but contentment – depended on being able to maintain my new identity. I would just have to talk to Minerva and explain things, maybe even throw in a few threats if she didn't listen.

We could co-exist; we just had to stay away from one another. Then maybe after the year was up, he would finally move on and leave me in peace. If I was very lucky, he might even leave at Christmas, and never come back. I'm not really known for being lucky, though.

--

I took a shuddering breath and got up from the floor. I don't even know how long I had sat there, staring off into space. I was just happy to be in the same building with Harry. After all these years a part of me had given up hope that I would ever see him again.

What I thought about him before he left ten years ago seemed pale in comparison for the feelings I had now. Want and need all mixed up in a heated lump, sitting in my gut, spreading its warmth through me whenever I looked into his eyes.

My memory of his eyes seemed cloudy now that I thought of it. What I had dreamed of as vivid and penetrating was nothing compared to the real thing. His anger…

Why was he so angry? I felt as though I could recall each of our exchanges in sharp detail, and I couldn't remember a single time that he hadn't left smiling. In fact, I had gone over the memory of every single moment several times in my mind since the night he left. Analyzing it over and over until it was burned in, looking for some clue for him leaving.

I always came up empty handed.

It broke my heart though, more than I ever thought it could. I had been foolish to think it was a phase, or a tryst that would somehow deplete over time. More than ever, I knew that Harry was meant to be mine. Why else would fate bring us back together again?


	4. Chapter 4 What was Lost

**Author's note: I would just like to mention what a badass my beta is :) Thanks Alicia! ****divinexrapture I promise you'll get your chance, I'm working on something else right now just for you to beta when you get ready! :)**

**Chapter 4 What Was Lost**

Yawning widely, I padded from my bedroom over to my desk, candles flickering to life as I came into the sitting room. The castle made me feel at home that way; the way the magical energy felt like a separate living entity, anticipating what you wanted before you even had time to say it out loud.

Malfoy Manor worked the same way, but then so did a lot of the ancient magical buildings. Hogwarts, itself, was originally built on a magical hot-spot. The lake, forest, and surrounding grounds are riddled with power and energy. Father would sometimes call areas like that _fey belts_. They weave and wind through all of Europe, and usually muggles avoid settling on them, or even near them in some cases. A major exception was London.

London is full of magic, nearly to the point of bursting. Father speculated that it was because of the vast number of magical families that have made it their home over the centuries. Even the great Merlin himself, at one time, lived in what is now London.

A slim, burgundy envelope on the desk caught my eye and I picked it up, flipping it over to look at the seal. It was the Hogwarts crest, only slightly off. I recognized a phoenix in the seal, wrapped around the "H" in the center.

I opened it swiftly and pulled out a short letter, reading it silently to myself.

_Dear Mr. Malfoy,_

_As a new professor at our school, your classes will be under probationary review for an undetermined period of time. I'm sure you understand that the education of our students here is of the utmost importance, and we do everything we can to make sure their learning experience is the best it can be. _

_Please expect me to sit in on your first day here with us, and at random class periods within the following days. Thank you in advance for your understanding._

_Deputy Headmaster_

I couldn't help but grumble slightly. Minerva had briefly mentioned a probationary review, but I had thought it would simply be a review of my curriculum and assignment scoring. I had no clue one of her cronies would be watching me teach.

It made sense in a way that I didn't feel like acknowledging at that moment. Additionally, it looked like someone had been in my room while I was sleeping to deliver the letter, which made me feel slightly violated. I made a point to check the security charms on the door when I had a free moment.

I wondered vaguely who the Deputy Headmaster was; none of the professors I met on my first day introduced themselves as such. Potter would be the only one selfless enough not to brag about it, but he was far too young to hold the title.

--

Students arrived in throngs over the weekend, and I got the distinct impression that they hadn't cared for their previous Potions professor, and that they were not going to care for me, either. Maybe it was just the course. Not many people had the patience for proper potion making.

After showering and dressing, I made my way down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Potter wasn't there and I wasn't sure if I should have been elated or disappointed. He had made great work of avoiding me the entire weekend, only joining us in the Great Hall for the welcome feast, and left the second he could reasonably excuse himself.

Part of me was happy, because if he did show up, he would only sit awkwardly beside me, carefully avoiding contact of any kind. It was already growing tiresome. Then the other part of me wanted desperately to have him sitting so close, under any circumstances I could get.

Minerva seemed more put off then she should have over Harry's absence, and it made me wonder if my potions expertise was really the reason she contacted me for the professorship.

I looked up from my breakfast of toast; my first day nerves were too much to stomach much else. My eyes moved to scan the students eating their own meals. Four tables were arranged in the hall, same as they had been during my time here, but instead of being sorted into houses, the students were divided up by year. The first years had a table to themselves, then the second and thirds sat together, next to them the fourth and fifth years, followed by the sixth and seventh.

I knew my cousin, rumored to be Harry's godson, would be starting school the following year. According to my Aunt Andromeda, he had already begun showing aptitude for magic and even seemed to have inherited some of his mother's traits. The last time I had visited, young Teddy changed his hair color three times throughout the two hours I was there.

The doors opened, and my eyes flicked to the entrance automatically. Harry strode into the hall, looking decidedly edible. I tried not to stare but found it nearly impossible. He was dressed similarly to the night I had arrived, black washed jeans, a faded ivory tee with some mottled gray image on the front, and what appeared to be a solid gray blazer. Over his muggle outfit he wore the standard issue black professor robes with the Hogwarts seal.

His hair was still slightly damp, hanging in loose tendrils around his face, which was newly shaven. His green eyes met mine for a moment before he was distracted by several of the older students calling him over to their table.

It seemed that Harry was quite popular with the students. It figured. No matter how hard he tried, fame was obviously inescapable.

Harry never made it up to the head table, much to my and Minerva's dismay. He stayed at the seventh year table chatting with a group of students. They happily made room for him and chatted animatedly about Merlin only knows. He listened intently to whatever they blathered on about, nodding, laughing, smiling or shaking his head in disappointment. He seemed to be having a genuinely good time in their company, just sipping pumpkin juice and listening to them prattle.

I envied him and pitied him simultaneously. He seemed so at ease as I watched him with the students, but at the same time, I realized Harry had never been able to be a carefree teenager during his first stint at Hogwarts. Maybe he was making up for all that now?

At least Minerva seemed to let go of her initial annoyance when she saw the smile plastered on Harry's face. It was hard to stay angry at that smile. I knew that from experience.

--

I opened the door to the Potions classroom shortly after the students had assembled, and Draco had begun the lesson. His gray eyes went wide when they took me in, standing in the entrance to his class. It was all I could do to repress a snicker; he obviously hadn't put two and two together yet.

His attire surprised me. He actually wore a well-tailored muggle suit under his robes. The suit and tie were a pale gray and matched his eyes perfectly. It was then that I realized I had also dressed to match his eyes, and I blanched slightly. I quickly regained my composure as he stuttered in front of me.

"Pot – er – Evans? What are you doing here?" he stammered. I found I thoroughly enjoyed making him nervous.

"Didn't you get my note?" I asked, knowing full well he had. The magic let me know the moment the seal had been broken.

His eyes flicked to my robes then, lingering on the Hogwarts seal on the left collar. "Your note… you're the Deputy Headmaster? But you're only twenty seven!"

I laughed. It usually didn't amuse me to be so vastly underestimated, but something about the shocked look on Draco's face made it all too funny. "My, aren't _we_ astute today," I replied, still laughing slightly.

The entire classroom had burst into giggles and murmurs, and I wondered how he would get them all under control.

The room was arranged like spectator seating, where each row was raised a little higher than the one in front of it. Draco's desk was in the front facing the students, and large blackboards covered the wall behind him. In the center of the room, under where the students sat, was the potions storeroom, or at least the public one that students were allowed to access. I knew from my school days here that Draco would have his own private storeroom located between the classroom and his quarters.

I made my way to the very back of the class so that I was sitting at the top most point of the room, looking down on everything. From there I had the perfect vantage point for watching the class… and Draco.

By the time I had situated myself, he had regained his composure and was looking around at the boisterous students. I stifled a smile at his discomfort.

"Quiet," Draco began; casting furtive glances at various groups of teenagers not paying him any attention at all. They continued to ignore him much to his chagrin. After a few minutes, and several failed attempts, he lifted his wand into the air a thousand red sparks burst from it, sprinkling around the classroom.

The students fell silent, their attention fully on Draco. "I will have silence in my classroom," he began. "I am Professor Malfoy; I will be teaching you the delicate art of potions this year. If you have a question, I expect you to raise your hand like a civilized person, and wait until I have called on you."

"Now," he continued. "I went to school here before the war, back when students were still sorted into houses. My head of house was the Potions Master during my time here, and in Slytherin -" Several jeers and hisses erupted from the students, but Draco silenced them with a glare. "- I learned to be great at potions. It is my job to pass my knowledge down to you, and make sure you each meet your own potential. Questions?"

A small hand went up in the third row and Draco acknowledged the girl with a nod. "Is it true sir, that you went to school with Harry Potter?"

I cringed at the name, and Draco's eyes flicked briefly up to mine. A small smile curled his lips as he answered. "Yes, that's true. Now, do you have a potions related question miss…?"

"Abernathy," she replied. "No sir, we were just curious. The other professors never speak about him."

"Really?" he asked, his smile spreading. "What would you like to know?"

There was a collective murmur through the crowd, and several hands shot up all at once. Draco laughed and smirked up at me as I rolled my eyes. This wasn't going to be pretty.

"Were you and he friends?" asked blonde girl in the front row.

He met my eyes before answering and his held a deep sadness. I looked away instantly. I had no care for his regrets.

"Our relationship was…complicated," he answered at last. I almost scoffed at the understatement, but bit my tongue and kept silent.

At that answer several more hands shot up. I groaned to myself, this had the potential of going on for hours. Draco nodded to the next student, a frail looking brunette boy. "Were you there when he killed You-Know-Who?"

Draco only nodded and shuddered, sending another wave of hands in the air. By that point almost every student had a question. He inclined his head to the next person, a small red headed girl, who seemed to be stretching out of her seat to be noticed. "Tell us everything you remember about him!" she squealed excitedly.

A few hands went down then, and Draco looked nervous. He looked back up at me then, for a long moment, seemingly contemplating his answer. None of the other students seemed to notice the delay. They seemed sure he would answer.

I felt my lips form into a smirk and he frowned, chasing away the mirth he had shown at making me uncomfortable earlier. I was more than a little curious how he would answer that question.

His words were slow and deliberate when he finally answered, his eyes never leaving mine. "Harry was the best person I have ever known. He was headstrong and stubborn," he said with a smile, and the students laughed lightly. "We were enemies through school. I fancied myself his arch nemesis, but in reality he had much larger problems than me, as you already know." A collective nod ran through the class as they all remembered their childhood stories, and Draco sighed.

"I got to know him though, just before and after the war and I found that he was extraordinarily kind, loyal, and generous." His smoldering gray eyes bored into mine and he almost whispered the last words, as if he were speaking them directly into my ear. "I guess you could say that he grew on me."

Our eyes stayed locked, and for a moment I forgave him. The sight of his watery gaze, and the sound of his sweet words, made me falter in my resolve.

I let all the memories rush through me in a blur, a soft pale hand running fingers through my hair, the feeling of soft platinum hair tickling my face, his smell, his touch, his taste. The images in my mind were so warm and fragrant that the heartache which followed caught me off guard. The snide, demeaning comments uttered in public, then the worst of it, the moment I refused to relive.

My jaw clenched and I cleared my throat. "I think you should get to your lesson now, Professor Malfoy."

Draco looked up at me and his face fell. He must have seen the slip in my resolve and watched as I refortified it. A part of me felt sorry for him. He, most likely, had no idea what caused me to leave that night. He didn't even know I had been there, much like the time in the Astronomy tower when he faced off with Dumbledore.

It always amazed me what you can find out about a person when they don't know you're watching them.

--

The lesson went smoothly once it got underway. Harry sat perched in the back of the class, boring his angry green eyes through the back of my skull as I stood at the blackboard, writing out formulas.

I assigned homework, to a chorus of groans, and dismissed the class. A few students grinned at me as they left, making me think that perhaps I wasn't the most hated professor after all.

After all the students were gone, I studied Harry for a moment. I had recognized the crest on his robes as the same on the letter earlier. I hadn't even noticed the difference in the Great Hall, not from that distance. It struck me then that Harry had been the one in my quarters while I slept. It made me wonder what else he might have been up to while he had been there.

Potter didn't move from his perch, even after the last student had gone. He refused to meet my eyes, and instead looked down at his parchment and quill, which was scribbling away ferociously. I could only imagine what awful things he would report back about me to Minerva.

"Can we talk, Harry?" I asked. He cringed slightly and his eyes flicked to the door.

"We only have a few minutes before your next class starts," he replied tersely.

I repressed a grin; obviously he had neglected to look at my schedule. The next hour was my free period. "Well then, if that's the case, you won't have to put up with me for long, right?"

His lips formed into a tight line and he nodded. "So, talk."

It was fairly obvious he had no intention of coming down to me, so I went up to him. I draped myself lazily into the chair in front of him, turning it to face backward. It put me looking up at him, but just barely, because I was slightly taller, and he was slouching low in his seat.

"The students are fascinated with you," I started, trying to keep it light.

Harry quirked his thin black eyebrow in confusion. "No, they are fascinated with Harry Potter, as are _you_ it seems."

I grinned. "Yes, I'm most certainly fascinated with the Gryffindor Golden Boy, but I was referring to earlier, at breakfast." He still looked confused, so I continued. "They were all over you, and that was you as Professor Evans, not you as Harry Potter."

Harry shrugged. "Did you have a point, Malfoy?" He pretended to look at a watch that didn't exist on his wrist, his face looking annoyed. "Because if so, you should make it soon."

It was then that I noticed the scrapes and bruises on his hand, but I didn't take that bait – yet. "My point is that your charisma is inescapable. Your famous either way."

He scoffed at me. "Fame and popularity are not remotely the same thing."

That confused me. "Really? How so? They seem the same to me."

"That's because you have never been either one," he sneered.

I winced slightly as the comment struck true. "I was… popular…" I argued halfheartedly.

Harry reached down and patted my head like you would a small child. "Whatever you say, Malfoy."

"Fine, explain yourself then," I responded, pulling away from his placating gesture, which made him laugh.

"Popularity is when people like and respect you," he started, "fame, is when people just want to gawk at you like a freak," he finished, his mouth turned up in disgust. "Harry Potter has fame, not popularity."

"I think he has both, or at least he would if he stopped hiding under a false identity." I hoped it would spur some of the argumentative spirit we used to have with one another, but he only shrugged.

"My identity is still the same, it's just my name that's different. I'm still the same person," he replied quietly.

"You don't seem the same to me," I whispered, more to myself than to him.

"You never really knew me." I winced. The statement was what he believed to be a fact, and I realized he never knew how much I had studied him when we were in school. Even before our relationship developed into something… more, I had watched him.

I always told myself that it was all merely strategy, and that I needed to know my enemy in order to defeat him, but it was more than that. It wasn't until he saved me from the fire in the Room of Requirement that I even realized what he was truly capable of.

I was ready to kill him in that moment, ready to destroy him, but he moved past all our childhood animosity and hatred and saved my life. He had no idea if I would turn on him or not when he selflessly pulled me from the flames.

It was that act that made me seek him out that night. While the memorial services were underway, I found him out by the lake, just staring out over the wide expanse of unmoving water. Neither of us seemed to be able to deal with the death and mourning inside the castle, each of us for our own reasons.

We formed a silent companionship that night, with the stars overhead and the phoenix singing its sad song. I held him when he started to cry; his quiet sobs shaking his entire body. What would have normally been fodder for scathing remarks and teasing turned into a bonding experience. Some part of Harry must have known he was safe with me, or maybe at the time he just didn't care.

"What happened to your hand?" I asked, ignoring his previous comment. I wasn't going to let him in on the fact that I knew him better than he thought I did.

If he noticed my abrupt change of topic he didn't say anything about it. "I hit a wall."

I felt my eyes go wide and I laughed. "I hope it deserved it."

He laughed then, too. It wasn't his old laugh, the one that lit a fire in my belly, but it was still nice. I wondered if he even _could_ laugh like he used to.

"I was imagining your face when I did it," he replied, the laughter taking on a different tone.

I pouted. "Did the idea of kissing me really make you _that_ angry?" I asked, not really thinking clearly.

His eyes flared for a second, and then resumed their usual brilliance. It wasn't hard to ascertain that my line of questioning had gotten too personal. I had thought we were making headway, but apparently not.

He took a deep breath and seemed to reel himself in. "Would you just drop all that Malfoy? It was ten fucking years ago. Let it go. _I_ have." His voice sounded like it was threatening to break, so I knew he was conflicted in his statement. I just had to find a way to get to the part of him that still wanted me. I knew it was in there… somewhere.

"Have you? Have you, really? Because _I_ haven't. I can't." I whispered in question.

"Clearly," Harry muttered.

I rolled my eyes. "Can't you just listen to me? I don't even know what happened to drive you away, I think about you constantly. In fact, every day for the last ten years! If I can forgive you for leaving without a word, why can't you forgive me for whatever you _think_ I did?" I was practically shouting; I was so mad. Harry could be so dense sometimes.

Harry stood up and paced down to the end of the aisle. I tried to stand, but something he did bound me magically to my chair. "Malfoy, where are your students?"

I shrugged. "In other classes most likely."

He looked down at his paperwork and grimaced. "I suppose you knew this was your free period when you asked to talk?" He looked angry, but then I was getting pretty livid myself at his childish tantrums.

"Of course," I sneered.

"Up to your old manipulations, I see," he spat.

I was still struggling to remove myself from the chair, but meanwhile I just pointed to my chest and smirked. "Malfoy."

He nodded, as if that cleared up everything, which I guess to him it did. "Trust me, I remember," he said as he walked quickly to the door.

I had a moment of panic. I had just been the biggest idiot, and now he was leaving and I couldn't even get myself out of that stupid chair. "Harry, will you be back?" I pleaded.

"Not because I want to, only because I have to," he muttered as he left the potions classroom, not once looking back to meet my gaze.

I sighed and slumped in my chair. Why had I done that? Why couldn't I have just left the conversation light and friendly? I groaned as I tried to violently extricate myself from the chair before my students really did start arriving.

The motion only sent me sprawling backward, though. Apparently Harry had lifted the jinx when he left the room. I just remained there, lying on the floor, hoping that none of my new students would find me as I contemplated what the hell I was doing at Hogwarts.

Authors note: I'm not going to bother reminding you all how fond I am of reviews...


	5. Chapter 5 Questions & Answers

**Author's Note: lol. So I went from no Beta, to having two lovely ladies that both wish to help me along in my writing. :) Many thanks to Alicia for your helpful plot suggestions, which I will make use of very soon (as in about twenty minutes from now) and thanks to divinexrapture, who despite her busy weekend, was happy to lend her nazi like grammer and punctuation skills. You're both too kind! **

**Chapter 5 Questions & Answers**

Seeing Draco at Hogwarts was bad for my health. It had only been a few days, and already I was having nightmares, reliving the night that I left.

I could still clearly see Lucius' face from under my invisibility cloak, and it made me shudder. Draco's dorm room was dimly lit, but I could make out his pale face, as well as a deep scowl pressed into his dream-self's features.

"_I'll not have this nonsense continuing, Draco. You're a Malfoy for Merlin's sake. You have responsibilities to uphold," Lucius shouted sternly. Draco had only nodded._

_Lucius put a white hand on his son's shoulder, his tone switching to placating, "Listen, Draco, I understand a brief dalliance - don't look at me like that - I do understand. I myself had a small fling while attending school; it's almost unavoidable." Draco cringed at his father's words, but Lucius pressed on._

"_Just think of your mother, what would she say if she found out about you and Potter?" He practically spit the name. "We'll line a bride up for you, and then once you produce an heir, you'll be the head of the household, running Malfoy Manor."_

_Draco nodded dejectedly. "Yes, father."_

"_You haven't gone and fallen for the boy have you?" Lucius asked tentatively._

"_Doubtful," Draco sneered. "It's only sex after all."_

"_That's my boy," Lucius said, patting his shoulder. "Just end it with Potter. The sooner the better. I'll see you at home in a few weeks."_

I shook the remnants of my dream away from my mind. It felt just like yesterday that I was lurking under my invisibility cloak, watching the horrible scene play out. He had lied to me, lied about his feelings, lied about the future. I felt so ignorant.

I should have known that when his father said jump, he would jump. Having left that very night, I never gave Draco the chance to break up with me.

Ever since just after the war, I had been planning to leave. I'd already talked it over with my friends and family. The reason I snuck into his room that night was to ask him to come with me. It was only supposed to be a short trip, a couple of months away after we finished exams. But after I witnessed the conversation between Draco and his father, I didn't feel like waiting, and I didn't feel like coming back.

Two years of my life passed by that way. Alone. Now here he was, back at Hogwarts, back in my life. Making it hell.

--

Harry was already in the Great Hall, sitting in his seat at the head table when I had arrived. His eyes flicked briefly to mine as I walked to my own seat.

"Malfoy," he muttered as I seated myself.

"Evans," I replied, equally emotionless. This was starting to grate on me, and I wanted it to stop. I wanted him to just look at me, just talk to me. If he would only be cordial, I could even move past the possibility of getting him back. We could at least be friends; there really wasn't a reason not to be. We were so similar, and obviously compatible, as proven in the past. I just couldn't figure out why Harry was so angry with me. If anyone, it should have been me that was angry. I was the one who got walked out on. I was willing to look past all that and start over, and he just wanted to pretend like nothing ever happened.

It hit me then, and I wasn't sure why I hadn't thought of it before. The more I thought of it, the more it made sense. He had probably wanted to be rid of me and didn't know how to do it politely. Gryffindor pride would never let him just tell me to sod off, not after everything we…

Harry never really liked me.

That was the only explanation I could come up with that answered all of my questions. He had just clung to me because I was the only one offering him what he needed to get past the grief of the war, and then when he realized what he was doing he wanted to end it.

I don't know why the thought had never occurred to me. As I sat next to Harry, watching his sulky behavior at being in such close proximity to me, it all clicked into place.

I started getting angry; angry that he didn't just tell me instead of leaving, that what he did say contradicted his leaving altogether. He had once said he loved me. Granted, it was as he was falling asleep, and he undoubtedly would never say those words aloud. Yet, still he said them.

From those soft lips, he said the words I had never heard before. Not from my family, or from any of my friends, not even from my own parents. Never did father, or mother, utter those three words. Emotions were a weakness, and they would have none of that nonsense in their household.

But the nude boy with scruffy raven hair, curled up beside my own naked body, had said it. He said he loved me, and that one sentiment made me willing to give up any other life I had planned before he came along.

He lied to me.

--

I felt Draco's eyes on my own as I moved the food around on my plate, pretending to eat. His eyes were their usual gray at first, but as he continued to stare they turned icy. I tried to ignore him, but he was rigid, practically throbbing with hurt and anger beside me. I finally couldn't take it anymore and met his glare.

"What?" I asked, as if he had said something.

Draco just huffed. "You could have just told me."

Admittedly I was confused. "Er… what was I supposed to tell you?"

"That you didn't like me," he replied as if it were obvious.

I glared at him and let my eyes flick to the other professors within earshot. "Can we talk about this later?"

"Right, like you'll ever make time, you'll most likely disappear again," he scoffed.

I grit my teeth; he was being a right pain, and apparently had it in his head to blow my cover. "What are you talking about, Malfoy?" I hissed.

"Before, when you left. Harry-" I glared at him sharply, cutting him off and grabbed his elbow roughly. Dragging him from the Great Hall, I ignored the stares of the students and our fellow staff members. Only Hermione and Minerva remained impassive at the exchange.

I kept pulling him along until we reached my quarters at the top of Gryffindor tower. Once inside, I whirled around and pinned him to the wall. "Now, Malfoy, what were you on about back there? Are you _trying_ to give me away or something?"

Draco looked as shocked by my sudden actions as everyone else had and took a moment to compose himself. "Maybe I was, maybe I think it's time that everyone knows that Harry Potter is just a big coward, hiding from them all this time in plain sight!"

"What did you call me?" I growled.

"A coward. You're no brave lion. You're just a scared little pussy cat," he huffed, obviously impressed with himself.

I pressed him a little harder against the wall before letting go and stepping back toward the seating area. I gestured over to one of the armchairs and Draco reluctantly sat down.

"Would you like to tell me what brought on this assumption?" I asked, trying to remain calm.

He sighed and leaned back in the armchair, closing his eyes before he spoke. "It just all hit me, the reason why you've been spurning my advances."

That was the last thing I had expected him to say, and I chuckled lightly before I could catch myself. He opened his eyes, enough to shoot me a glare, and I promptly stifled the laugh. "Oh, and why is it that I'm 'spurning your advances', as you say?"

Draco shrugged. "Because you don't like me."

I laughed again. "I already told you that. It took it this long for it to sink in?"

His mouth gaped a moment before he spoke again. "When did you tell me that?"

I was confused again. "I thought I was pretty clear, when you tried to kiss me, that I wasn't interested in going back down that road… what were you talking about?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "No, I mean before you left. I finally realized that you left in the first place because you never liked me."

I didn't know what to say, but I took a step back because my anger was getting the best of me. "You're a fool if you think that," I spat.

"Oh, well then please enlighten me, why _did_ you leave if it wasn't over your feelings for me," he huffed.

"No, your right, Malfoy. It was exactly because of my feelings for you that I left," I hollered. "You broke my fucking heart, Malfoy." I couldn't see anything; my anger and tears blurred the room. I quickly blinked them away only to find that I wished I hadn't. Draco was staring at me, wide eyed, like a deer caught in the headlights.

"How?" he pleaded, still looking surprised at my admission. "_Please_, just tell me what I did… I'll make it better, whatever it takes, I promise, Harry-"

"Get out!" I shouted, cutting him off. I didn't want anything to do with his apologies or his lies. "Just get out," I said more quietly the second time.

I didn't wait to see if he would listen, I made my way to my bedroom, closing the door and locking it behind me. I waited until I heard the other door close behind him before I let myself go. I just sat there on the edge of the bed in a quivering, tear-streaked mess, until I had to pull myself together and go to class.

Time to be Professor James Evans. If only I could figure out a way to get rid of Harry Potter altogether.

--

I was shaken. I didn't know what to do with the slight information I had gleaned from Harry that morning. How could I have broken his heart? I wracked my brain, trying to think of the last time we had seen one another before he took off. Having thought over it so many times over the years, the memory was burned in my brain. I tried looking at it from every angle, trying to find a clue that he had been about to leave me.

It had been the morning he left, and he sought me out after breakfast. We had found a disused office weeks before that we would meet in whenever the fancy struck us. He found me close by and dragged me into it, pinning me against the wall and kissing me fiercely.

I was quick to succumb, as usual, and kissed him back. I remember thinking about how different things had become between us in just a few short weeks. Harry was mine, and nothing could take him away from me.

He pulled away finally, pulling my bottom lip between his teeth for a moment before releasing it. He just stared at me, with his penetrating green eyes, and in that moment, I knew I was his as well.

We possessed each other thoroughly, mind, body, and soul. I knew from the first moment we kissed that I never wanted to kiss anyone else. Then the physical contact, which was intense and complete, became emotional as well. The sex was brilliant, but sometimes, the moments like those brief exchanges between classes, were even better.

I could feel his heart thudding against mine, knowing that it only beat for me, and I was happier than I could ever imagine.

It hadn't been a long meeting, just kissing and groping, and then off to class. Nothing unusual, for us at least; we barely even spoke. I remember asking him if he was having a good day, and he said, "I am now," and kissed me again.

We didn't speak for the rest of the day. Hermione and Ron had no idea about us, and he wasn't keen to break it to them while we were still in school together. I respected that, so I kept my distance, though I did notice Hermione and Ron whispering to him about something, and occasionally Harry would glance at me when they had turned away.

There was never any animosity though; never anything but love, or at least at the time that was how I had interpreted it.

For my part, I was in love with Harry. I had never said it to him, and kicked myself for that over the years, wondering if it would have made a difference. The feelings scared me, but I trusted Harry.

It was that afternoon at lunch that I got a letter from my father saying he would be arriving after dinner, and that he was 'very disappointed', which frankly was nothing new. He was extra bitter about having fought on the losing side of the war, and wanted to reestablish the Malfoy name through me.

That night he told me he had found out about Harry, and that night Harry left. I suspected for several months afterward that my father had done something to Harry, but he adamantly denied it, and merely said that I was 'better off'.

After a few years, I actually started to believe that—that Harry leaving was the best thing that had ever happened to me. I would be the Malfoy I was supposed to be.

Though, that was until I saw him again. The minute I saw his blazing green eyes, I knew I had to make him mine again. His anger seemed so unwarranted, and I couldn't possibly battle it without knowing what caused it.

I had to find out what caused it. I had to find out a way to make him mine again.

--

I sat in on Draco's last class of the day. It was a risky move to put myself within arm's reach again, but I had questions I wanted answered.

That morning, he seemed so genuinely puzzled by my admission, so sincerely apologetic. After thinking it over, I decided that I must to talk to him. I had to try to figure it all out. Maybe it was time to let bygones be bygones. I could at least give him the benefit of the doubt, after all these years.

At least, I would if he answered my questions honestly.

His lesson held no interest for me, even after ten years I found potion making an utter bore, but Draco was still fascinating. The other students seemed to agree. They preferred him immensely to Professor Slughorn. I think he won them over from the start with his Harry Potter question-and-answer session. I rolled my eyes, thinking of the mess that had been.

The students filed out, quicker than normal since it was their last class, and Draco kept looking up from his papers to see if I had moved yet. I think he expected me to bolt, and I half wondered if he had a plan to keep me there.

As it stood, he didn't need one.

"Can I ask you a question, Malfoy?" I called down to him from my perch at the top of the classroom.

He looked surprised by either my voice or my question, or perhaps both, but seemed to think on it a moment before finally speaking. "On one condition."

"Which would be?" I asked impatiently.

"On the condition that for every question I answer, you have to answer one of mine." As he spoke, he looked confident that I would agree.

I pretended to mull it over for a long time, watching his confidence falter, then finally nodded. He beamed at me, and that made it worth my agreement, and bounded up to sit in the same chair he had occupied the first time we had spoken in his classroom. He did look at the chair suspiciously before sitting down, though, as if checking for the jinx I had put on it the last time.

He looked up at me with soft, sparkling gray eyes and smiled, waiting for me to take the lead.

"Why didn't you ever get married?" I asked.

The question clearly caught him off guard and he laughed. "Is that all you wanted to know? Here I thought you had some deep private question for me."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "It's important for me to know, just answer the question."

He shrugged. "Because you never asked," he replied, still smiling.

I rolled my eyes. ""Seriously, Malfoy."

"Draco."

"What?"

"Call me Draco. I'm tired of you calling me Malfoy," he answered, obviously exasperated.

I huffed at him. "I'll call you Malfoy until I feel like calling you otherwise."

He rolled his eyes at me. "Fine. I answered your question, now you have to answer one of mine."

"You didn't answer my question honestly!" I was starting to get mad, but the look on his face stopped me.

"Yes, I did," he started. "I realized a long time ago that you're the only one I want to be with."

I almost argued, but he seemed genuine, so I let it go with a wave. "Fine. What's your question?"

He grinned. "What happened to your scar?"

I blinked a couple times, not expecting such a mild question. I had assumed he would launch right into the tough ones, since he didn't know how many he would get to ask.

I closed my eyes for a moment and knew the minute he saw the scar appear on my forehead again. He gasped a little, and I grinned. "It never went anywhere," I replied.

"Brilliant! How did you do that… Hey, is that what you did to your eyes that first night? You can do wandless magic?" he asked excitedly.

"Hold on, now," I said, laughing at his exuberance. "I already answered your question, now it's my turn again."

He sighed. "Right, right. Where are my manners?"

"Did you know I was here when you took the job?" I asked, my face serious again.

He shook his head. "I had no idea."

"Then why did you take the job?" I asked in response.

He hesitated. "I…" he paused to take a breath and continued. "I was afraid to relive the nightmares I had here, and I knew I had to get over them. Besides, the place just felt… right, after being away so long… I hadn't realized how much I missed it."

I didn't say anything. He felt the same way about the castle as I did; I couldn't make him leave, so that only left one other option: cohabitate with him.

"My turn," he said brightly and I nodded. "What happened to your glasses?"

I laughed. He really was wasting his questions. "That's simple. It's just a vision charm. I learned it my first month away."

"Where did you go?" he asked quietly.

I shook my head, "Oh no you don't. It's my turn again."

He laughed. "Sorry, Harry, but you asked me two questions in a row, and I answered both. I get another question."

No, that wasn't right. "I did… oh… I did, didn't I?" He nodded, still smiling. The git.

"I was in Ireland, Dublin more specifically. I did my Auror training there under the name James Evans."

He raised an elegant blonde eyebrow at my answer. He didn't say anything in response, just nodded to me so I could ask my next question. "What did your father tell you the night I left?"

His eyes went wide and blinked several times. He cleared his throat, and swallowed thickly several times before answering. "He… he told me to break it off with you."

I nodded, already knowing exactly what had happened. I also knew that Draco had agreed to what his father asked, but I didn't tell him that. I went to get up and leave, but a hand on my leg stopped me.

"I still get a question," he said quietly.

I really didn't want to talk anymore. Some part of me had hoped that I misread the conversation between Draco and his father, or that maybe he was under some sort of curse, and that he wasn't saying what he meant, but I knew then that I had been right.

However, a deal is a deal, so I motioned that he could ask his last question.

"How long had you been planning on leaving me?" he asked, his voice breaking on the words.

I sighed. "Leaving period, weeks… ever since the moment Voldemort fell, actually. Maybe even before that… I don't really know. Leaving you? I only decided that about an hour before I actually left. I was going to ask you to come with me after exams were finished, but you changed my mind."

He looked dumbfounded. Then I could tell the moment when all the puzzle pieces clicked together. "You… you were there weren't you?"

I knew the 'there' that he was speaking of, and I didn't have to answer his question, but I nodded anyway. I made to move again, but his hand was still wrapped around my calf.

"How?" he asked, not bothering to refute what I had seen, just wanting to know how I had managed it. Such a Slytherin.

I just narrowed my eyes at him, and he knew. "That infernal invisibility cloak," he muttered.

I nodded again, and this time he let go of my leg. I walked away, down the stairs toward the door.

"I really did break your heart didn't I?" he asked again quietly.

"You don't get any more questions, Malfoy," I said before leaving the classroom.

--

Author's Note: I think by now you are all well aware of my stand on reviews... :)


	6. Chapter 6 Devastated

**Chapter 6 Authors Note: Many thanks to my beta's! Alicia & Alexandra (sorry lol I hate it when people spell my name wrong too.) (We're like the 3 A's lol.) They are brilliant as always. Also, if you like smut (which I think you all do…) you should check out the one shot I just posted. It's called Mine and is D/H of course. **

**Chapter 6 Devastated**

I couldn't move from my chair, and this time it wasn't because of a hex, courtesy of Harry. No this was my own doing. I should have known and I should have pieced it together much sooner, years ago even. It was the only explanation and it was so obvious once I thought of it. Harry was a menace with that damn invisibility cloak.

He had witnessed the entire exchange between my father and me. I groaned to myself, vividly recalling the conversation. I hadn't meant a word of it of course. I had planned to defy my father, only pacifying him for the time being until I could devise a plan, but how would Harry have known that?

Well he would have known if he just stuck around and asked, but still… what I said. What I said about Harry, Merlin _I_ would have left me too. It was entirely my fault, if I had just stood my ground and told father that I was _not_ leaving Harry to become his perfect little Malfoy heir, it would have all been fine. Well, no not fine, I would have been sent to Durmstrang or back to the manor to complete my exams, under house arrest and unable to see or speak or write to Harry.

At least then he would have known the truth though. That I loved him more than words could articulate, that I would risk my life and my livelihood just to belong to him. I realized that I did belong to him all that time… my first love, my truest love, and I would never forget him. Even after years of wondering, I still loved him.

It hurt to think of what could have been, what I missed. I could have finished school and then Harry and I would have run away together and I would have had him all to myself. Ten years wasted because I was too big a coward to stand up to my own father.

What could I say to that? I could tell him that I didn't mean it, but why would he believe me? He heard it with his own ears. "_It's only sex after all_," I repeated the loathsome words in my head.

Even if I had just stayed silent, even then I could have found a way to explain it that sounded plausible. I was only saying what I knew Lucius wanted to hear, what I had been taught to say in such situations. But it didn't excuse it. It didn't erase it from poor Harry's ears.

I didn't deserve him. Father had been wrong all along, it wasn't me who was better off without Harry; it was Harry who was better off without me.

--

I'm not sure why I finally told him the truth, it's not as though I thought he deserved it, but he had been honest with me, so I felt I owed him the same.

I had only ever relayed vague details to Hermione about everything that happened all those years ago, and I felt somewhat relieved to have it off my chest. I felt like I could possibly put it all behind me, once and for all.

I could work side by side with my former Slytherin lover and keep a calm detachment. It would be easier now that he knew the truth; now that he had an idea of how much he hurt me, and how well I knew of his betrayal.

I wondered if he would see it the same, as a betrayal, or if he ever thought of it. The fact that I had overheard him with his father that evening surely seemed to surprise him. Had he really thought me so naïve that I would take him back after that? Why would he even want me back, after he made everything clear about his feelings for me, or lack thereof, to his father.

Was I just some trophy to him? Would he not stop until my head was stuffed and mounted on his wall, the great many conquests of Draco Malfoy? If that was all it was though, wouldn't he be over it by now, or does James Evans give him a new identity to conquer? Either way, I was stronger than I was at seventeen, and I would not let him break through my iron will, no matter how sweet or appealing he still was.

--

Hermione had set up a private dinner date for her and I, saying she had a surprise visitor for me. Anything was better than eating in the Great Hall, trying not to breathe Draco's sweet scent. So for a change, I didn't argue with her or demand she tell me who was meeting with us. She knew better than to bring anyone I wouldn't want to see. I had been in a foul enough mood since that afternoon with Draco, and I could tell she was making an effort to cheer me up.

I was halfway to the hospital wing, lost in thought, when a barrage of glistening red hair assaulted me, nearly knocking me off my feet. I leaned back to look at the face of Ginny, winking coquettishly at me. I grinned and pulled her into another tight hug. "Gin, it's so good to see you!" I exclaimed, and really it was.

I missed everyone, being shut away in the castle all the time. I rarely had contact with anyone on the outside world. Every person who saw me was a possibility of being found out, so I didn't leave the castle often, usually only to Hogsmeade, which was just an extension of Hogwarts really.

All the Weasleys, however, knew my secret and kept it well. They were family and though they, like Hermione, tried to change my mind, they would never do anything to out me to the public.

Ginny looked lovely. She was practically glowing from being a few months pregnant. I kissed her tenderly on the cheek and leaned down, placing a soft kiss on her growing belly. "How are our little guys?" I asked the un-answering bump.

Ginny laughed and rolled her eyes. "Why won't anyone listen to me? I still think it's a girl," she said, still laughing.

I shook my head. "Whatever you say, Gin, I bet its twin boys, just like Fred and George. We're going to have our hands full, the whole lot of us with those two." I replied.

"Ugh, you're a monster, you and mum both," she groaned as she took my hand and led me off to the hospital ward. Being with Ginny immediately cheered me up, and I found myself looking forward to spending time with her after the events of the week.

We were going to Ron and Hermione's cottage in Hogsmeade for dinner. It was my favorite, and most commonly used, place outside the castle. It had a cozy charm that reminded me so much of the burrow. It would be even better having dinner there, just the four of us.

--

I took the long way around to the great hall, hoping to speak to Hermione before she went to dinner. I just didn't know who else to turn to. She was Harry's best friend and the only person who seemed to know about our history, plus, loath as I was to admit it, she was brilliant.

I rounded the corner and spotted Harry with a tall beautiful red head in the hall. I ducked back behind the corner and peeked around to keep my eye on the exchange. I felt guilty for about half a second until I realized that Harry eavesdropping on me was what got us into this whole mess… so _he_ started it.

It felt childish even thinking it, but I wasn't beyond acting childish at this point.

She was hugging him tightly, and much to my chagrin he was hugging her back just as fervently. That made me feel a little sick, but then when he kissed her I felt worse. It quickly spiraled downhill when he stepped back and I saw her slightly bulging belly. He leaned down and kissed her stomach, and cooed at it. I couldn't hear them well, but I could have sworn he called it 'ours' and I thought I might faint.

Who the hell was the woman, and how had she taken my Harry away? Of course I knew the answer to the latter already. I had left Harry broken with my thoughtless words, and she must have been there to pick up the pieces and set things right.

So that was it. The real reason why he spurned my every advance, he was married, or at least having a baby, with someone else. I wanted to cry, to get angry, to yell and scream and plead for him to leave her and come back to me, but I knew better.

I had caused him damage and he had moved on. It was fair, to be expected even, especially after all the time that had passed. Harry and I had actually discussed family once, and it was his dream to have one of his own at some point, though at the time he had written it off as unattainable.

I remember thinking that after Hogwarts, and after we were settled and happy, that I could see myself adopting and raising a child with Harry. Maybe a little girl with curly raven hair like his, and pale white skin like mine, or maybe a little boy that we could teach to be the best seeker in England. I could clearly picture the children in my mind, looking exactly like the best of both of us, even though they weren't technically _of_ either of us. Those things could all become true with magic. They would be ours, and we would love them, together.

I never told him about those ideas; too afraid he would laugh at me, though deep down I knew better, and now here he was, with a different 'our' that didn't include me.

Now he was with Ginny. I recognized her at last as the she-weasel, and it made even more sense, in an ironic sort of way. Here was the girl that he left for me originally, now pregnant with his child. It served me right I suppose. Leave it to fate to twist the knife ever so delicately in my back.

As he left with her, hand in hand, I felt my heart squeezed to bursting. I slumped down against the wall, and beat the back of my head against it repeatedly, chastising myself for my enormous stupidity.

I had been so eager to see him on my first day, that I hadn't even bothered to ask if he was dating anyone, let alone… this. Had I just assumed he missed me as much as I did him, unable to even look at another face? How long had he been seeing Ginny? Obviously a few months at least, but could it have been longer? Could he have been with her for years?

The world closed in around me as I sat, alone on the floor, my only wish was that I had a time turner.

--

I'm not sure how I got through the next week, a combination of coffee and blankness to be sure. I must have sounded like a droning moron to the students, but I couldn't make myself care, for the first time in ten years I felt completely void of hope.

Harry attended a few of my classes sporadically, but always ignored me, and left the moment I dismissed class, which was just as well, because I didn't know what I would have said to him. "_Congratulations on having a wife and child, by the way I hate them_"? Doesn't seem like the best conversation opener.

I reasoned that they must not actually be married. Harry didn't wear a ring and he was definitely the kind of guy who would never take it off if he had one. I wondered if they were going to get married, or wait. Maybe Ginny didn't want to be a pregnant bride. I had heard that somewhere from one of my mother's tittering friends, that her daughter didn't want to look fat in her robes, so the wedding would wait until after the baby was born.

It helped to think of Ginny as vain and shallow.

That Friday, Harry attended my class last again, and this time I was determined to stop him when he left. I dismissed the class and as the final student ran out, eager to be done with classes for the weekend I'm sure, Harry got up to leave.

"Harry," I asked quietly, and he whipped his head around to look at me. "Do you have a minute?"

He looked at me for a fleeting moment. "No, I'm afraid I don't. I'll see you around," he said quickly as he strode to the door, not looking back.

"I just… wanted to congratulate you," I said quickly, before he walked out.

He stopped and slowly turned around. "On?" he asked, curiously.

"Oh, I saw Ginevra the other day, she's quite… pregnant. I just wanted to congratulate you… both of you."

A slow grin played across Harry's face. "Er… thanks. Listen, Malfoy it's not…"

I held up a hand. "It's okay, Harry. I should have been clever enough to ask if you were seeing anyone, I was just a little caught off guard by seeing you. I can see now why you want me to just leave you alone … I'm sorry. For everything."

"Really?" Harry asked incredulously. "You're going to leave me alone now… because of Gin and the babies?"

I nodded. "Yes… wait, babies? As in plural?"

Harry laughed. "Yeah, Mione and I and even Gin's mum think its twins. We won't know for another few weeks."

My face dropped. "Oh… well again… congrats, and sorry. I'll see you around, Harry."

He paused at the door for a moment, seemingly debating something over and over in his head, but finally shrugged and left.

I could feel the silence of him leaving as a palpable presence, smothering me and crushing me under its weight. Everything I had been waiting for was suddenly and inexorably out of my grasp.

Authors note: Not reviewing is for the weak...


	7. Chapter 7 Relief

Authors Note: Again my thanks go out to Alexandra (grin) and Alicia. I also wanted to share one of the funniest reviews I have gotten to date from the last chapter: _In the spirit of the Olympics...Draco could win a freaking gold medal...for jumping to conclusions!!_ Thanks Emmy. I'm still laughing! I'm really looking forward to reading your story! - Also, **I posted a new One shot, this one is a song fic. Check it out and let me know what you think.**

Chapter 7 Relief

I finally decided that I needed a friend in this forsaken new hell I had agreed to work in, so my plan to visit with Hermione was back on track, though not for the same reasons as before.

Life post-Harry had been difficult, wondering every day where he was, what he was doing, if he was okay… if he was even alive. But this new existence, this half-life was almost worse. I knew Harry was fine; I sat next to him during almost three meals a day, and he seemed happy enough, even chuckling to himself on occasion. He still dropped by my classes, quietly monitoring my teaching style, taking notes and nodding politely as he left.

This Harry who lived on the edge of my peripheral was driving me insane. It was like he was calling to me, but remained just out of reach. It was a nightmare.

I felt like I was going mad, and I had no one to talk to. The only people in the castle that were my age were Harry and Hermione, and I obviously couldn't speak to Harry about it. I had halfway debated talking to Minerva, but I was too afraid that I was mistaken in thinking she was aware of Harry and my background. I really didn't want to be the one to break that news to her.

I made my way down to the hospital wing that evening, hoping not to run into the sight I did last time. I made it all the way, uninterrupted though, and found Hermione sitting in her office.

"Hermione?" I asked tentatively.

"I was wondering when you would finally make your way down here, Malfoy," she responded, without turning around.

"Pardon?" She was expecting me, why had she been expecting me? Was I that transparently upset over Harry and Ginny?

"Harry mentioned that he finally told you why he left," she said, still not turning to face me. It was rather irritating.

"Oh, yeah that," that issue hardly seemed of consequence now, faced with the new information I had received.

She turned around then, and her face was cautious but inquisitive. "If not that, then why did you come down here?" she asked.

"I wanted to erm… talk about Harry's… what I mean is… I saw him and Ginny yesterday and the… er baby," I spit out at last, never sounding more like an imbecile than I did in that moment.

Her face turned perplexed and then she broke out into a wide grin. "This is too rich, wait until Minerva hears this. Boys, I swear, you're so dense."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I just kept quiet, waiting for her to continue. I didn't have to wait for long. "Look, Malfoy… I really don't have time for this. I have actual sick children to deal with, though you seem to just be an _older_ child."

I huffed slightly. "So what? I need to be sick in order to get your attention?"

She seemed to think it over and then nodded. "Yes. The truth is Malfoy; I have nothing to say to you. You hurt my friend, irreparably, and I want nothing to do with you."

I sighed and watched her for a moment. Nothing in her body language suggested even an inkling of doubt, so I left, turning back to my solitude.

--

Another week went by, and Harry showed up to my class less and less. Maybe I was a decent professor after all. The students seemed to think so, which made me feel better.

I was in the middle of third year potions when a thin wisp of smoke trickled out of a cauldron, belonging to a small slip of a boy in the back row. I walked quickly up the stairs and was met with a horrifying odor.

"Jenks? What the bloody hell did you do to that potion?" I shouted, trying to clear the other students away so that I could get to the offending cauldron.

The boy shrugged shyly and stuttered about too much mugwort.

I shook my head. "No, mugwort wouldn't do this, you put bat wing in it didn't you?" I asked, staring incredulously at the swirling mixture.

He looked down sheepishly. "I think I may have sir."

I groaned and grabbed the cauldron away and started levitating it up to the front of the class. "Class dismissed. Jenk's you'll be coming back after supper to clean up this mess, understood?"

The boy nodded quickly and escaped with the rest of the class.

I had barely made it back to my desk when the explosion hit me, knocking me to the ground and coating me in the putrid liquid. I must have hit my head pretty hard, because I couldn't make myself get up, and I slowly drifted out of consciousness.

--

The first thing I could think about upon waking was the horrid smell. Though fainter than before, it still lingered in the air all around me. I wondered how long I had been out.

I shifted slightly and could feel soft downy fabric above and below me and I panicked for a moment before I realized I must have been found and taken to the hospital wing. My guesses were confirmed the minute I opened my eyes.

Squinting against the harsh glare of the lights I was able to make out the slight body of a witch standing beside my bed, and behind her, two other forms. She was glaring at them impatiently but didn't shoo them away from the bed. "Malfoy? Professor can you hear me?"

I nodded and winced and she seemed to take that as enough.

"Lie back, no, don't move. – I said don't move you stubborn arse!" she shouted as I tried to shift in the bed to see around her. The other two sniggered at her outburst and I knew then that one of the figures was my student. I tried to open my eyes more fully and was rewarded by smiling faces, though Hermione's face was still set in a firm frown.

Standing behind Hermione was Jenks and behind him stood Harry, his hands resting of the smaller boys shoulder. "Professor, Jenks just felt so awful about what happened. I told him he could stay here with me and wait for you to wake up, so that he could apologize."

I narrowed my eyes. "Boy, you are worse than Longbottom. I hope you don't think sitting here at my deathbed is going to get you out of detention," I rasped.

Harry laughed and rolled his eyes. "I see the potion had no effect on his ability to make snide comments," he muttered to Hermione, still smiling. He then looked back to me and his eyes were sparkling green gemstones. "We were worried."

I could tell by the look on his face that it wasn't the loss of my quick wit that had him worried, and I felt a twinge of warmth radiate through me. Harry was concerned about me.

I waved the unwarranted giddiness away quickly, though. He was deputy headmaster, and if nothing else an acquaintance of mine, of course he would be worried, but it changed nothing else between us.

Jenks still looked a bit ill from my berating him a moment before and I lessened my glare on him slightly. "I'll be fine Jenks. You can run off to your friends now. I'll see you in class tomorrow."

He nodded shyly and Hermione led him from the room with a light hand on his back. After he left, she went into her office, leaving Harry and I alone. "So were you really worried about me?" I asked.

Harry looked down at the floor, a slow smile creeping onto his features. "Of course I was worried about you…you're… well, you're fragile," he replied at last, grinning cheekily.

I rolled my eyes. "I am not fragile," I mumbled, trying to sit up. I was rewarded for my effort with a shooting pain lancing across my chest and I winced. Harry was at my side in a heartbeat, pressing me back into the bed.

"You really are a stubborn arse, you know that?" he grumbled, his hand still pressed against my chest. It was like electric fire where he touched me, and that was even through clothing.

No, it wasn't. I realized that I had no shirt on whatsoever. My eyes went wide as looked briefly at my exposed torso, then at Harry's hand. He caught my look and pulled his hand back like it had been against a hot stovetop. "Sorry," he muttered.

"I can't believe you let one of my students see me topless," I groaned.

Harry smile as back when he replied. "To be fair, you were covered by a blanket until you started trying to sit up."

I sighed overdramatically. "Well, now what am I supposed to do? I can't have a student lusting after me in class. He'll never get a thing done."

Harry laughed and nudged me lightly in the ribs. "You would be worried about that, as opposed to the searing nightmares he'll be having." He stopped laughing long enough to shrug and continue. "It could have been worse, though."

I raised a delicate eyebrow in question. "How exactly could it have been worse?"

"The blanket could have fallen off entirely," he said, trying to stifle more laughter.

I pulled the blanket up and peer under it quickly. I was completely nude. "I suppose this is your doing, Potter?" I teased.

His face turned bright re as he nodded. I was shocked; I had assumed it was Hermione who had done the undressing, as it is part of _her_ job. " We had to get you out of the potion soaked clothing and Hermione asked for my assistance, since I was…" He let the idea trail off.

"Since you were _what_?"

He looked away. "Since I was used to seeing you naked," he muttered, grudgingly.

I laughed. "I'm sure you pointed out that you were used to seeing seventeen year old me naked, not Professor Malfoy."

A subtle smile twitched onto his face. "Yes, in fact I did… but Hermione is… well… persistent."

I nodded and tried to relax. Laying here starkers, in front of my ex-lover who was apparently no longer interested in men, was not my idea of a good time, but I tried to cope.

"I thought they would have faded more," he sighed, his fingertips brushing one of the vivid pink scars on my chest.

I grimaced. I didn't like thinking about the night that Harry cursed me. I had forgiven him of course, and it wasn't his actions that made me feel ill, it was mine. If he hadn't hexed me, I would have hit him with an unforgivable. It made me sick to my stomach to think I could have hurt Harry so badly, and so easily. The word 'crucio' just popped from my mouth as easily as 'hello'. It was disgusting.

He pulled his hand back, apparently thinking I was grimacing at him. "It's okay, Harry," I said quietly. I could see his inner turmoil laid bare in his eyes.

He shook his head. "Listen, Mal- er… Draco, I'm glad you're okay. I should go… I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow."

He didn't wait for my reply before high tailing it from the room. He was spooked, and I wasn't even completely sure what had done the spooking.

I heard approaching footsteps and I thought for a moment that Harry had changed his mind. It was Hermione. Her approaching figure looked slightly menacing.

"What did you do?" she hissed.

"Me? I didn't do anything," I replied, slightly shocked by the accusation.

He hands were on her hips and she was scowling. "Then why did he shoot out of here like a bat out of hell?"

"My scars," I said simply. If she was going to make wild assumptions about me, I wasn't going to indulge her further.

He face softened and she dropped her hands. "Oh." She pulled my covers up a little higher and patted them in place. "I saw his face when he saw them before. He never wanted to hurt you."

"You think I don't know that? Harry would never intentionally hurt anyone. It's just not in his nature," I muttered.

She smiled sadly. "I don't know about that… he's purposefully hurt plenty of people, but I know he would never hurt you."

I shrugged. "Doesn't matter much anymore does it?"

"No, I guess not," she said as she turned to go back to her office.

"Granger?"

She looked back curiously and inclined her head that I continue.

"When are they getting married?"

She looked perplexed. "Who?"

I rolled my eyes. "Ginevra and Harry, who else?"

She laughed so hard she had to brace herself on my bed. When she finally calmed down she answered me. "Harry and Ginny are not getting married. Ginny's already married. She and Neville got married two years after exams, in fact it was the same weekend Harry came back."

"But… isn't Longbottom his friend? Why would Harry do that? Ew," I said, entirely disgusted with the idea of Harry having sex with another man's wife. I mean, Harry having sex with anyone but me made me nauseous, but having sex with Ginny, under those circumstances just seemed _wrong_.

Hermione rolled her yes, but continued to laugh. "Malfoy, Harry never had sex with Ginny, she's pregnant with Neville's baby…or babies as I think it to be. It's too soon to tell but-"

She was starting to babble so I cut her off, attempting to get more important things answered. "So, Harry and Ginny are not, and never were lovers or dating or anything of the sort?"

"No. Harry's just the godfather," she said plainly.

"Why would he tell me…" my voice trailed off as an idea struck me. He had never come out and said he was the father; in fact, I was so flustered when I talked to him that day that I kept interrupting. "That bloody Slytherin," I muttered to myself.

He had let me believe it because it would keep me off his back for a while.

She shook her head sadly. "Harry hasn't dated anyone since he left you, hasn't even _looked_ at anyone else." She frowned. "Not that you deserve the loyalty, mind you," she huffed.

I cringed. "I know that. Trust me, I… don't even know how to begin to make up for it."

She looked at me incredulously. "Do you think you can?"

I shrugged. "Not the way he's been acting. I just wish he had stayed around that night long enough for me to explain. I didn't mean a word of it; I just needed to get my father off my back while I thought of something. If I had told him my true feelings he would have yanked me out of the school that same night."

"What _are_ your true feelings?" she asked, looking genuinely curious.

"I love him," I stated simply, trying not to let the tears welling up in my eyes drip onto my cheek. "I never stopped."

She sighed and twirled a piece of hair around her tiny finger. "If you're serious than I'll consider helping you, but so help me Merlin, if you are lying to me, I'll hex your balls onto your face."

I shuddered slightly at the mental image. "You'll help me?" I asked.

"I'll _think_ about it," she corrected, still seeming to ponder over my previous words. "Just know that if I do decide to help you, it will be for Harry's sake, not yours."

I nodded, suddenly feeling hopeful. Harry wasn't married or having illegitimate children, and his best friend was going to help me get him back. The world was a bright and shiny place again.

Author's note: Save a faerie, review today! Every review counts! (Did that sound enough like a public announcement?)


	8. Chapter 8 Invisible

Author's note: As always, many thanks go out to Alicia & Alexandra my beautifully brilliant beta's.

Chapter 8 Invisible

It wasn't the first time I had done this, and it probably wouldn't be the last time either. I just couldn't help myself. Ever since he got injured, my feelings toward him shifted just ever so slightly. That afternoon I felt so at peace being able to watch him openly while he slept, completely unaware of my presence. He was beautiful and angelic when he slept. I had almost forgotten.

That night I tried to sleep but failed miserably. Draco was still in the hospital wing, and I was tossing and turning in a fit of worry over him.

Finding him on the floor, splayed out and broken looking, had done something to my nerves. I remember being completely devoid of breath as I looked at his still form, and prayed to whatever gods I could remember that he was okay. He had a pulse, but it was faint.

It was always amusing to me that in emergencies I sometimes I forget that I was a wizard. I didn't bother with healing spells or levitation charms; I just clutched his still body to me and carried him to the hospital wing.

Hermione tried to take him from me the minute I walked through the door but I refused. I carried him over to the bed and gently sat him down, smoothing his potion soaked hair away from his face.

Hermione came up beside me and started pulling at his clothing. "Harry, a little help here?"

I looked at her in dismay. "What are you doing?"

"We have to get these clothes off of him and clean him up. Who knows what was in that potion, it could hurt him," she said gruffly.

Against my better judgment I moved to assist. Hermione was ripping his shirt from his body and I slowly undid his pants, sliding them down his thin pale legs. Hermione glared at me harshly when I tried to leave his boxers on. "Really, Harry. It's not as though you haven't seen him nude."

"That was ten fucking years ago, Hermione. Don't you think he might protest this a bit? It seems… wrong," I whispered.

"Actually, I think he wouldn't mind one bit," she replied with a smug grin.

I rolled my eyes and finished stripping him. With the last article of clothing off he was pale and lovely, hints of color reflected off his skin in the light through the windows. All the sharp edges of the seventeen-year-old Draco I remembered were softened, revealing a toned and smooth physique, only the scars on his chest stood out in stark relief against his creamy flesh.

I winced when I saw the scars; reliving the night I gave them to him. That was the Draco I fell in love with, the sweet vulnerable boy in the bathroom that night, and I almost killed him. I would never fully forgive myself for the horrible pain I caused him.

Here he was looking pale and vulnerable again and I just wanted to hold him to me, keep him safe. As much as I denied it to myself, I was still in love with the boy. Could I still be in love with the _man_?

"Harry, I need you to bathe him while I run his clothing to the Ministry to see if there is anything I should be worried about. That potion could have after effects that could affect his recovery," Hermione said hurriedly, bustling from the room.

"But… what if he wakes up?" I called after her.

She just shot me an exasperated look. "Just make sure he stays here, I won't be but a moment," she replied tersely and then left.

I sighed and levitated Draco to the back room.

One side of the room consisted of restroom stalls and sinks; the other side was a large tub, similar to the one in the prefect's bathroom. I levitated his pale naked form over to the bath, but hovered over it. The angle was wrong to just let him fall into the water without going under.

I walked over and lifted him from the air then gently carried him to the edge of the water. Suddenly I wished Draco were conscious. Even though I would have to endure a barrage of teasing, it would be better than trying to navigate an unconscious man into the water and bathe him without getting soaking wet myself.

I placed Draco down gently on the top step of the tub and stripped down. It would just be easier that way; at least that was what I told myself. I would have hell to pay if he woke up in the middle of all of it, but I would just have to take that chance. He was sick and he needed my help.

I stepped into the warm water and pulled Draco over to me. His body was light and flexible in the water, and I was able to wash him easily enough. I started with his hair, making sure it was as clean and immaculate as a Malfoy would insist upon.

I moved to his face, wiping all traces of offending liquid from his thick blonde eyelashes, and taking particular care with removing it from his soft pink lips. I sighed and held him just a little bit closer. He looked so peaceful; I wondered what he dreamed of.

I took my time washing his body, trying not to spend too much time in any particular area. If he ever found out that I hand bathed him while he was unconscious, there would be hell to pay from him later. It wasn't my place anymore to see him like this… to feel him like this.

He shifted a little in my arms and I panicked, thinking he was waking up. I carried him out of the pool, but as I reached the top step, he pulled me closer, wrapping his arms around my neck. He leaned in and kissed cheek and mumbled in my ear. "I love you… Harry I love you."

A choked sob escaped my lips and I felt my legs nearly give way below me. He was still asleep. Talking in his sleep, dreaming… about me. Even in his dreams he kept up the charade.

Though even _I_ knew that wasn't possible... It had to be true for his mind to project it into his dreams.

I grabbed a couple of towels from the nearby rack and placed one covering Draco, and the other I wrapped as well as I could around myself, before heading out into the main wing. I placed him gently on the bed and covered him with the soft downy blankets, smoothing them into place around him and effectively tucking him in.

It felt like the old times, when I would come back from detention and find him asleep by the fireplace. I would always put him to bed and kiss him goodnight, though back then I would climb into bed beside him. I hesitated, wanting to do the same, wanting to snuggle up with him in the narrow hospital bed.

Instead, I went back into the bathroom and dressed. Maybe when he woke up we could talk… really talk.

I slept the night away in the chair beside him and Hermione never woke me. Draco's student came in after breakfast and told me it was all his fault and that he felt dreadful, so despite Hermione's protests, I had him stay with me until Draco woke up.

It was all going well, Malfoy woke up ornery as ever, scared poor little Jenks nearly to death, and we were able to have a civil conversation. Then I had to go and botch it all up by touching his scars.

He made a pained face at me when I commented on them. He was obviously still harboring some bitter resentment toward me because of them, and I couldn't blame him, the scars were such a blemish on his otherwise glorious flesh.

The combination of guilt from inflicting the scars in the first place, and the heated rush I felt at touching him when he was actually awake to feel it, drove me from the room in a hurry.

I wasn't ready to go down that road yet. I wasn't ready to put my heart in his hands and try again. I couldn't withstand the heartbreak a second time.

So I left.

I ignored the confused look on Draco's face, and I ignored Hermione calling after me, I just ran.

That night I couldn't sleep. I thought it was because he was still in the hospital wing and I was subconsciously worried about him. So I slipped on my invisibility cloak and walked down to where Draco slept.

As soon as I made it to his bedside, a calming peace rode over me. There was something soothing about watching Draco sleep. He didn't toss and turn in his sleep like I did, but he talked a lot.

Sometimes it was about his father or his mother, and sometimes it was about classes or the students, but mostly it was about me. He would talk to me like I was sitting beside him. It was a little unnerving because I couldn't always tell if he was still awake, and often I would find myself answering him, and we would be having a lovely little conversation in his dreams.

"Harry?" he would ask.

"Yes, Draco," I would reply.

"Do you still love me?" He would ask, softly, his voice still thick with sleep.

"I'll always love you, Draco," I would admit to his sleeping self.

"I want to be with you, Harry," he would whine.

"I want that, too. Maybe one day… maybe one day I can forget the past," I would chuckle.

"Forgive me," he would beg.

"I'll try," I promised.

I got no sleep that night, listening to the heartfelt things he would say to me. I didn't sleep for many nights after that either, because even when he was released from the hospital wing the following day, I found myself sneaking into his quarters to watch him sleep.

I couldn't come up with an excuse other than I loved being with him, but when he was awake, he mucked it all up. It wasn't a fair assessment, because honestly I mucked it up at least half the time, but still…

It had been a solid week of these sleepless nights that led me to make the biggest mistake I could make. I was so exhausted, not even making any sense to myself, and he was so beautiful, so pale and peaceful. His platinum hair splayed out across the pillow, and his lips were soft and slightly parted, practically begging me to take them.

So I did.

I kissed him. I had no excuses for it aside from my fatigue and the fact that I _wanted_ to. I wanted him in the worst way. So lifted up the cloak and I kissed him.

It wasn't much at first, just his sweet breath mingling with mine, the soft caress of lips. When I let my tongue slide along his bottom lip I felt his entire body shiver in reaction.

Then he was kissing me back.

I was too enthralled to think anything of it, and I wanted him so badly. Tongues clashed as his sought entry and I gave way, his sweet breath filled my mouth and his taste coated my tongue. I lost all coherent thought as he latched onto my bottom lip and sucked at it.

Draco was like a drug, and I was quickly losing myself to the sensations of him. He gave a whimpered moan against my mouth as I kissed him deeper, relishing in the familiar little noises he made. I poured all of my emotions into the lips pressed against my own, into the kiss, into the passionate embrace.

In return I was being devoured, every inch of naked flesh was being molded against my body, only my own clothes keeping me from going any further with the Slytherin. My Slytherin.

For in that moment he was mine. No matter what happened later, for a brief second he was mine to hold, to kiss, and to love.

A moment later Draco's eyes flared open and he tore his face away from mine. Gasping for breath he tried to sit up, pushing me slightly away. "Harry?" he whispered.

I panicked.

I threw the cloak back over myself and retreated as quickly as I could for the door. I was caught before I reached it, and turned to find Draco's pale figure wrapped around me, holding me in place, keeping me from fleeing.

"Damn you, Harry. You're not going to invade my space, violate my trust and then run away!" He twisted me in his arms and flung me toward the bed, dragging the cloak from me in the process.

He hovered over me, eyes narrowing maliciously, and didn't even look remotely flustered by the fact that he was still nude. I had nothing to say for myself, no excuses I could give.

"What exactly do you have to say for yourself?" he growled.

"I'm sorry… I… couldn't stop myself," I stammered. The lack of sleep started catching up with me and I fell back against the bed. He caught me under my arms before I slipped completely down and pulled me to sit on the mattress, leaning against the bedpost.

"Harry, you're a mess. How many times have you done this?" Draco asked.

I looked sheepishly at the ground.

"How many nights, Harry?" he asked again, slightly more agitated.

"All of them," I whispered finally, still not meeting his eyes.

"And were you ever going to tell me about your little voyeurism issue?" he asked smugly.

I said nothing.

"Harry, look at me." I did. "I want you back, Merlin knows I want it more than anything… but not like this. I don't want to be watched while I'm sleeping, unless I know you're there. I don't want to have to watch you from a distance all the time, and I want to be able to talk to you."

He took a few steps closer so that his legs were against mine, effectively pinning me to the bed. "I love you Harry, but I deserve to be treated better."

I nodded deftly.

He leaned in and kissed me, softly and sweetly on the lips, running his silky fingers through my hair. I melted into his lips, letting him plunder my mouth with his tongue and then he pulled me sharply by the hair and looked into my eyes. His were a liquid pewter and angry, but behind the anger was lust.

He finally released me and stepped back, pointing at the door. "Now… go."

I looked up at him slightly dumbfounded, but stood on shaking legs and headed for the door. I was almost through it when I remembered something. "Er… Draco… what about my cloak?"

He gripped it tighter to his chest and scowled at me. "Go!" he said one last time, and I went. I hurried up to my own quarters as fast as my legs would take me, and collapsed onto my own bed.

I still couldn't sleep.

Authors Note: Please review. I would hate to see a squished faerie. That's what happens to them when you don't review. It's sort of like spontanious combustion, but its spontanious squishing. It's not pretty.


	9. Chapter 9 Even Playing Field

**Authors Note: I'm in the process of finishing this story and starting another. I also started a fic requested by one of my beta's for a non-magic D/H fiction. So look for both of these to be coming up in the next week. Many thanks as always go out to my Beta's Alicia and Alexandra. This fic contains a minor shout out to one of my most faithful reviewers Emmy. **

**Chapter 9 Even Playing Field**

Sleeping never came to me that night, as I curled up around the silvery fabric of Harry's invisibility cloak. It smelled of him, of his natural and sweet fragrance, and I had to stop myself from rubbing my face against it like a cat would, marking it as mine. I wished that was all it took to mark Harry as my own. After what happened that night, I knew that he wanted me, but was it enough? Did he miss me as thoroughly as I missed him? Body and soul? Or did he _only_ miss my body? Why else would he stoop to such desperate measures just to kiss me?

The kiss had been sheer bliss, mind you. I lived, breathed, and my very existence was made complete when his lips touched mine. But, if I had to lay aside my Slytherin nature, then so did he. I wanted him, but I didn't want to be his secret slut, being stalked and watched in the dark.

I also wanted to be with _Harry_, not Professor Evans. I could already tell that letting him know that would be an issue. Harry didn't want the fame that came along with his legendary name, and though I could understand that… I loved _Harry_. I wouldn't be able to keep calling him James, and a time would come where I would slip up and then he would blame me for his ruin.

That blame would not rest on my shoulders. If Harry wanted to be with me, really _be_ with me, he would be himself.

The cloak was like liquid silk in my hands, slithering across my skin like a lover's caress. It was hard to resist just slipping it around my shoulders to go skulking around the castle… so I didn't resist.

--

The castle held a silent appeal that I had never before noticed. I had taken several walks around the castle at night in my youth, but it was never for leisure… always for a purpose or task. I now saw how Harry could so easily break the rules, sneaking from his dorm even at the height of war.

Portraits slept unseeing all around me as I made my way through the stone corridors. The moonlight shimmering through the stained glass cast moving pictures on the ground. I felt safe beneath my – Harry's – cloak. I could do anything, go anywhere, and no one would be the wiser.

I could even go see Harry.

Trying to push the traitorous thought from my head, I made my way to Gryffindor tower. I would not stoop to his level. I repeated those words in my head even as I broke the charm on the locks and slid into the room. The mantra rolled quietly through my mind even as I spied an unsleeping Harry, sprawled across his bed. Even as he looked up, and practically locked green eyes with my own gray.

A slow smug grin crossed Harry's face. "Nice try, Draco, but I know you're here."

My footsteps stopped and my breathing slowed. He was going to catch me; I was going to lose what little upper hand I had given myself earlier that night.

Harry slipped off the bed and walked right toward me. "You triggered my alarms, Draco. Give yourself up now, and maybe I'll be nice," he whispered, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

I almost fell for it, almost gave in, but I _was_ a Malfoy after all, and we didn't succumb to sexy raven-haired boys easily. At least… not _that_ easily.

"Draco," he called in a singsong voice, stepping a bit closer with every syllable he extended my name.

Still rooted to the spot, I stayed until he was almost on top of me… and then I ran.

I flung myself back through the door and the adjacent sitting room, hearing his soft chuckle behind me.

Damn that mirthful Gryffindor.

--

I skipped breakfast the next morning and spent my entire day watching the door during class and in between, waiting for Harry to pop up and the teasing to begin. It didn't happen.

So, by the time lunch came around my nerves were shot and I wasn't sure if I was pleased or disappointed that Harry hadn't come to see me.

My stomach wouldn't let me skip lunch no matter how much I wanted to, so I made my way over to the Great Hall. I couldn't find Harry at first, but I eventually spotted him at the seventh year table, chatting with the students again.

Green eyes locked on mine the minute I saw him, and he excused himself from the young group and came to my side. He bumped his shoulder into mine, a wide grin on his stubbly face. "I missed you at breakfast this morning," he said, right against my ear.

"Oh?" I asked, my heart thrumming at his words. "I wasn't very hungry."

He nodded and grinned wider. "Right. Still resting up after your late night, sneaking into private quarters?"

Pretending to be offended, I scoffed. "I have no idea what you're referring to, Professor."

He laughed then, and the sound of it sent a shiver down my spine. "Of course, of course. I must have you mistaken for my _other_ former Slytherin lover."

"You must have," I agreed, cringing slightly at the idea of it.

Continuing to smile, he spoke again, this time lower, and for my ears alone. "Unless you don't want it to be _former_ any longer?"

My shoes squealed on the wood floors as I skidded to an abrupt halt. "What?" I asked, not trusting myself to hear what he had just said.

The grin faltered slightly as he took in my expression. "I was just thinking… erm wondering actually… if you wanted…" his voice trailed off as I stared at him dumbfounded.

Straightening myself up, I regained my composure. "I think we should talk later, after classes."

Harry looked a little less flustered and smiled softly. "Tonight then?" he asked and I confirmed with a curt nod.

I continued my journey up to the head table, where I was now too nervous to eat, and Harry went back to the group of seventh years. We locked eyes several times over lunch, but he slipped out of the Great Hall before I could say anything else.

The rest of my day was a quivery, sweaty blur. My hopes and dreams dangling just ahead of me like a carrot on a fishing line. I loved Harry, but what did he want from me exactly? He said the word lover, but what would that mean to him?

Would it just mean sex? Or would it mean more than that, the kind of bond _I_ was looking for? If he did only mean sex, would I be able to cope with that… to _settle_ for that?

I didn't know.

--

The last class had ended fifteen minutes prior, and I was pacing in my quarters, waiting for Harry. We hadn't exactly ironed out a specific time, but it still felt like he was late.

My voice held an edge of hysteria as I laughed at my own thoughts. Nerves.

Who knew Harry would still be able to do this to me after so many years? I remembered our first night together. I was such a ball of awkward hormones, but you never would have known it based on the look in Harry's eyes. His beautiful green eyes held only reverence; he looked at me like I was a delicate flower, waiting to bloom under his touch.

In a way, I was.

The moment I first kissed his petal soft lips, I knew there was no other person for me. No man or woman could compete with the feeling of his lips on mine.

A sharp knock brought me out of my lurid thoughts, and I just hoped I wasn't blushing noticeably. I walked to the door, forcing myself not to run, and opened it carefully. Harry was there, standing in my doorway, looking almost as nervous as I felt. The light from my room in contrast with the gloom of the dungeon corridor bathed his face in light, while the rest of him was almost hidden in shadow.

"Are we knocking now, as opposed to sneaking in?" I asked.

He grinned, and I melted. "I thought I would try something new," he responded, shrugging.

I stepped aside so that he could come in. His stride was purposeful as he made his way into the sitting room and stood beside the fireplace.

"So," I murmured, rocking back and forth on the balls of my feet.

"So," he repeated, looking anywhere but at _me_.

Another awkward silent moment passed between us before he laughed suddenly, jarring me from my thoughts.

"When did we revert back into seventeen year olds?" he asked, still snickering.

His laughter was joined with my own as I shrugged, walking over to stand closer to him, rather than at my post beside the door.

He sat down on the settee and patted the open seat beside him. I sat down lightly, waiting… for what I wasn't sure.

"Listen, Draco," he started.

"Harry, I," I began at the same time.

More awkward laughter ensued. "You go first," I offered.

Nodding once he continued. "I miss you," he blurted. "I've missed you since the second I left, but I thought the Draco I loved was only a figment of my own imagination. It was only recently that I discovered the Draco Malfoy I fell in love with might still exist."

I sighed, obviously relieved that it was going so well. "I love you, Harry. I screwed up so bad, but I'm willing to do anything to make it up to you. I wasn't being honest with my father that night, I-"

A warm hand clutched mine, effectively interrupting my speech. "I know. Hermione told me."

"So… you believe me? It can all go back to the way it was before?" I asked hopefully, silently thanking Hermione for interceding on my behalf.

He winced slightly, and I pulled back my hand. Rolling his eyes he huffed at me, pulling my hand back into his, locking our fingers together. "I swear, Draco. If this were the Olympics you could win a gold medal for jumping to conclusions," he said, laughing lightly.

"Olympics?" I asked, utterly confused.

"Never mind," he said, rolling his eyes once again. "I just meant… I don't know if it will ever be the way it was. We're both so different-"

"I'm not that different," I interrupted.

Laughing he continued. "We are _both _so different… but I want to get back to that, or as close to that point as we can get. I really do."

That was fair. At least he wanted the same as I did. I doubted it would be long before things were exactly like they had been, maybe even better, because we were older now, and wiser. And I wouldn't make the same mistakes I did when I was seventeen.

"So what now?" I asked, hesitantly.

And then he kissed me.

--

Kissing Draco was like drinking a finely aged wine. You savored it, let the smell of it envelope you, let its taste linger on your tongue. You always wanted more, but you fought to take your time, enjoy the rich sensations it caused within your body.

I was very picky about my wine, and I was just as picky about whom I kissed, and kissing Draco was better than any spirit.

I effectively had him pinned to the couch in no time. It was a much better kiss than the night before, because the other participant was actually… participating.

His tongue melded against mine in blissful perfection. I moaned against his mouth and his body responded with a shiver. He pushed me back slightly and I got a good look at his smoldering pewter eyes before he whispered in my ear. "Are you still going to respect me in the morning?" he rasped, a smug grin on his face.

I looked at him incredulously. "Who says I respect you _now_?" I asked, mimicking his smugness perfectly.

After a playful shove we were kissing again.

A few moments later he was pulling back for a second time, his angelic face flushed. "Bedroom," he rasped seductively, and all I could do was nod and follow him.

A silky shirt hit me in the face before I even made it through the door. I laughed. "Eager are we?" I asked huskily.

He smirked. "I think I've been waiting long enough," he replied, grabbing for my shirt and tugging it over my head.

I fiddled with his belt buckle and he rolled his eyes in frustration, swatting my hands away and removing it himself with one deft flick of his wrist. In the same movement, he let it fly around smacking me on the bum.

"Hey," I hollered, rubbing my stinging arse.

He laughed and unbuckled my belt next, just as swiftly. "Bed," he said, nodding toward said furniture.

Smiling, I climbed into his oversized four-poster bed, relishing the feel of the satin sheets under my hands.

Stormy gray eyes locked on mine from a few feet away as he stepped out of his trousers and boxers, kicking them away from him. In a blur he was on top of me, tearing my own offending garments of clothing away from my body.

With a movement just as quick, I reversed our positions and had him pinned beneath me. Our forms fit together like a glove, like they were meant to be always melded. Even after all the years we spent apart, our bodies changed and grew to complement one another.

Draco's body was familiar yet brand new under my roving fingertips. His pale legs parted for me, and with my mouth still locked onto his, I entered him.

For the first time in over ten years I made love to Draco, my Slytherin, the love of my life, and everything felt right. His body was hot and breathless under my own, his cheeks were flushed and beautiful and his mouth whispered my name like a mantra.

My own breathing was ragged as I brought us both to completion. He tightened around me as he climaxed and the world around me was lost in a sea of stars as I shuddered inside of him, shouting his name with my own orgasm.

I'm not sure how long we stayed that way, a quivering mass of frazzled nerve endings, but eventually we showered together and after a few quick cleaning spells, got back into his bed and slept soundly through to the next morning, neither one of us caring that we had missed dinner.

--

Authors Note: I'm always up for a challenge, so if anyone has a request for a fic, let me know. ;)


	10. Chapter 10 Name Calling

**Authors Note: As always my two beta's worked their magic on this chapter. Thanks Alicia & Alexandra. I've got a few more things up my sleeve coming up, and a couple of requests that I've started working on too...so based on my progress so far there will be like 4 new stories started next week. lol**

**Chapter 10 Name Calling**

When I woke up, I was disoriented, but a sudden rush of images played through my mind; tangled legs, clawing fingernails, arched backs and brilliant emerald eyes boring into mine. Had that all really happened or was it just another delicious dream?

I tentatively stretched out an arm, afraid I would find the bed empty and that the events of the previous night would all have been just my vivid imagination.

My arm only moved a couple inches however before my hand grazed warm flesh. A slow smile spread across my face, and a low chuckle sounded beside me. I opened my eyes to see Harry, his arm leisurely propping up his head, looking down on me.

Still tracing lazy circles on his tight abdomen as I spoke. "How long have you been watching me sleep?" I asked, my voice still thick and raspy. I had apparently screamed a lot the night before.

Harry chuckled again and sidled up closer to me, wrapping his free arm across my chest. I melted against him. "Not too long. You slept like the dead," he replied, pressing his lips to my forehead.

I grinned. "Not usually, I think you just wore me out. In fact I haven't been sleeping very soundly as of late."

"I know," he replied with another chuckle. "You talk in your sleep."

Smacking him lightly against the arm, I pouted. "I do not… do I really?"

Yawning he held up his finger as if telling me to hold that thought. Then he smiled and nodded. "Yes, you do. You talk quite a bit actually."

"What do I say?" I asked, slightly panicked.

"You mostly talk about me and your parents," he replied.

"Really? Well, I'm not surprised I talk about you, I have always had a thing for professors," I said, smiling cheekily.

Harry laughed. "There was not a single attractive professor here when we went to school and you know it."

"I guess the students are lucky to have us then, hmm?" I responded with a shrug.

He nodded, pressing his cheek against mine. I pushed him away lightly. "Ugh. Shave much?" I asked playfully.

Harry rubbed his hands over his chin and frowned. "Sorry."

Rolling my eyes I gave him another playful shove. "Go on then, the bathroom is through there." I pointed it out even though his room had the exact same layout.

I watched his naked arse as he padded into the adjacent room. Harry had such a nice body. After a few minutes, he peered back into the room, a toothbrush in his hand and his mouth slightly foamy. "It's not my fault you can't grow facial hair and your face is still the same as it was at twelve," he said smirking.

Laughing, I climbed out of bed and walked over to where he was standing. "Have you been trying to think up a clever retort the whole time you've been in there?"

A wide grin spread across his face and he nodded adorably.

I rolled my eyes again and kissed him on his cleanly shaven cheek. "Shower?" I asked, wiggling an eyebrow.

With several quick movements he finished brushing his teeth and joined me under the hot spray.

"Harry?" I asked when he was fully lathered and looking better than any shampoo model had ever looked.

"Yes, love?" he responded, and my heart skipped a beat. It seemed I had been right. It wouldn't take long for us to fall back into our old rhythm. Only this time we wouldn't have to keep it a secret… or at least I hoped not. I was about to find out.

"You know I love you right?" I asked, giving him my best innocent expression.

Unfortunately, he knew my expressions all too well, and didn't fall for it. "What is it?" he asked, eyes narrowed.

"Well I was wondering if maybe… you might think about… dropping this whole James Evans act?" He didn't respond at first so I thought I had maybe rushed my words and he didn't understand me, but then he laughed. I didn't quite know what to make of it, so I stayed quiet.

After a few moments his smile faltered and he looked at me seriously. "Are you serious?" he asked.

I nodded, not seeing what was so amusing.

Sighing, he quickly rinsed off and stepped out of the shower. I cringed slightly at his abrupt and silent departure, but didn't try to rush to catch up to him. I thought that maybe he just needed some time to think.

When I finished, I stepped back out into the bedroom and found Harry, fully dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. I mentally slapped myself for ruining things so quickly. That conversation could have waited, but I wanted to be honest with him about how I felt before getting too involved.

Harry didn't look up when I sat down next to him. "Listen, Harry… just forget about it for right now okay?"

Silence.

"I mean, it's important to me, if we're going to be together that we're doing it right this time. I don't want to hide anymore. I'm in love with you, Harry, and I want everyone to know it." I knew I was babbling but I couldn't stop myself.

Silence.

"I just wanted to be upfront and honest about my feelings, and I know at some point I'll accidentally slip and call you Harry instead of James, and I don't want to call you James. You're not James to me, you're my Harry, and I don't want you to be angry at me over it, but-"

Harry cut me off with a hand over my mouth. I caught several emotions flicker through his eyes. He hesitated, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "Are you aware of what it would mean for me if I were to do this?"

"Well, sure." I nodded, making my face match the seriousness of his. "I know you're not a fan of the _Prophet_, and things would be crazy for awhile when they found out you were still alive but-"

He cut me off again, this time with a sharp look. "This runs much deeper than my disdain for the press, Draco." He sighed and pressed his fingers to his temples, no longer meeting my eyes.

"Think for a minute the backlash that would come from the public finding out that Harry Potter has been using a false name for the past ten years. For starters, I'm not even sure my Auror training would be considered valid, which means I don't have the qualifications to teach defense, and that's the only thing I had to start with."

"Harry, that's nonsense. You and I both know that Minerva would never sack you over something so trivial," I huffed.

His glare made me blanch. "_You_ of all people should know that I don't seek preferential treatment. What if she doesn't get a choice in the matter? The Ministry could step in and have me removed from the post, and replace me with one of their own people. I will _never_ let another Ministry minion work at this school as long as I'm alive," he hissed.

Cringing, I nodded, fully remembering what Umbridge did to Hogwarts, what I _helped_ her do to my beloved school.

"Aside from that, think of the school and the upheaval it would cause if the staff and the students were all informed that it had been Harry Potter living amongst them all this time. I would lose all of the respect I have built for myself here, and Minerva and Hermione would suffer too, since they knew all along," he sighed.

"Then there's the rest of them," he continued, his face looking more and more grim. "The rest of the people outside this castle. All my old friends think I'm dead. They would feel so betrayed to find out that I've been here and fine all this time."

Standing, he began to pace my bedroom. "The last thing on my mind is the media circus, which alone is cringe worthy, but everything else is worse. I love being a teacher here, this life works for me… if I gave it all up… and then you left me…" his voice trailed off when he struck upon the real issue.

He was afraid I would leave him, or betray him and cause _him_ to leave me… _again_. I slumped my shoulders and let myself fall back onto the bed. "So that's it."

Harry sighed, leaning against the doorjamb, looking like he was preparing an escape route. "We've just started this thing back up again, Draco. Maybe when…"

The words 'I can trust you again' hung in the room between us like a suffocating blanket. I couldn't fault him for the thought. For all the world it appeared as though I betrayed him once, so why wouldn't I do it again. I let it go. If I was going to keep Harry in any form it seemed as though I would have to.

"I understand," I said at last, and he relaxed a little. I was still sullen that he didn't trust me, but as he said, we had only just started things again. "Can I ask though, is it something you'll ever consider? If I prove my loyalty to you…"

Harry grimaced at my words. "Probably not," he whispered.

I nodded. It would never be worth it to him to risk the change; _I_ would never be worth it. "Well, I guess I have to learn how to love James Evans then," I sighed.

"It's still me," he replied, trying to smile, but not quite achieving it.

I shook my head. "It's not the same to me." I sat up and looked at him, standing tall and confident by the door. No glasses, no scar and all his soft boyish good looks had transformed into a rugged handsomeness; no, this was not Harry Potter.

"I need some time, Har- James, I'll see you at breakfast," I mumbled.

Harry winced and hesitated in the doorway, apparently waiting for me to change my mind. When I didn't, he turned and walked away, leaving me alone with my muddled thoughts.

--

I sat at the head table, waiting for Draco to arrive. Breakfast was halfway over when he finally did, and as soon as he walked through the doors I could feel the difference in him.

He walked briskly to his place setting and pulled out his chair. "Evans," he said with a curt nod in my direction, his eyes aimed down at his plate.

"Er… Draco," I said, not playing along. He winced and finally met my eyes.

His were icy and indifferent as he stared at me, but behind his careful mask I could plainly see the sadness I had caused him. I would never have intentionally hurt him, but I had to be honest. I couldn't predict where this relationship would go, so I couldn't reasonably make him any promises.

Reaching out, I placed my hand on top of his and he jerked it away, his eyes flaring. I scowled and looked away, pushing the eggs around my plate. Minerva cleared her throat beside me, but I refused to look over at her. She would just lecture me over something, I was sure.

Draco's movements beside me were similar to my own, not really eating, just pretending. When the first students started to file out of the hall, I pushed my plate away from me and left.

I could feel his cold gaze on the back of my neck as I walked away from him.

--

"I don't know what's gotten into him," I huffed to Hermione at lunch. She watched the exchange at the table over breakfast and met me in my office, offering to take me to the Three Broomsticks for lunch.

So there we sat over butterbeers and fresh Ruben sandwiches. I had told her all about the events of the night before, in less detail, and the events of that morning, in more detail. She had been surprised to say the least.

She'd known I had plans to see him that night, but based on the incident she'd witnessed at breakfast, she'd assumed it had gone belly up from the onset.

"Harry, I don't know what to tell you. You know I only want you to be happy, and you're right, you and Malfoy just started dating again… if you can call it that," she rolled her eyes. "And until you completely trust him again it's perfectly reasonable not to throw your whole life out of whack, but-"

"I knew there would be a 'but'," I grumbled.

She smiled sweetly, and I knew I wasn't going to like what she had to say. "_But,_ you know how I feel about this whole James Evans rubbish. Draco's right, you owe it to yourself, to him, and to everyone else to go back to being Harry Potter."

I rolled my eyes. "I had never planned on reverting back, not ever."

Nodding she took my hand. "I know, but it's the right thing to do… and you know it."

I sighed and nodded weakly. Hermione was right as usual, and as usual it infuriated me. "I'll think about," I committed, but in my head I already knew I would cave eventually. "I just need a little more time to figure things out."

Hermione must have been pleased enough with my answer because she dropped the subject and started talking about the new Weasley Wizard Wheezes products her husband had invented, calling them things like 'childish' and 'ridiculous' but I could tell she was proud of Ron. I could see it in the way her eyes sparkled.

I hoped that one day I had that sparkle.

--

I decided not to wait and see if Draco was still in a funk at dinner, and went to his quarters right after classes ended. I knocked sharply on the door, but no one answered. I waited, not so patiently, tapping my foot, but no one ever opened the door.

I had turned to leave when I heard the decisive click of the lock, and looked back to find his sharp pale face peering at me through a small crack. "Evans," he acknowledged with a curt nod. I was already getting sick of that gesture, and that name on his tongue sounded all wrong. "What brings you by my humble quarters this evening?"

Great, I thought, he was back to his old haughty ways already. "I want to talk," I replied plainly. He raised a skeptical eyebrow but moved aside so that I could come in.

The room was barely lit with a couple of straggling candles. It seemed melancholy, but that apparently matched Draco's mood. "Listen, Draco," I started, but he cut me off.

"I'll get over it, James," he said, making a face as he said my name. It really did sound wrong when he said it; in fact, I think I would hate it if he called me that during sex.

"You don't have to, what I came over to say is that… I'll think about it," I said. I looked into his eyes and he still looked skeptical. "I promise, Draco. When you and I have been dating for a couple months, and I have some time to prepare myself… I think I can do it. I'm open to the idea at least."

Draco grinned. "That's all I ever wanted, James," he responded.

"Ugh," I groaned, "Would you please stop calling me that, at least here in private?

He lifted and elegant blonde eyebrow in surprise. "Does it irritate you?" he asked politely, and I nodded. "Then why ever would I stop? _James_…" he finished with a smirk.

Rolling my eyes, I charged at him, deftly lifting him up and carrying him into the bedroom. It appeared we were going to miss dinner again.

Authors note: Okay..I won't threaten the faeries again... but please keep reviewing ;)


	11. Chapter 11 Proposal

Authors Note: I'm so thrilled! So many reviews on the last chapter and I didn't even have to threaten Faerie Kind. sniff. So happy. Well, as alwaysmy my first Thanks go out to Alicia & Alexandra. They offer such wonderful edits and feedback. I'm on track to finish this story this week, possibly as soon as tomorrow. Sorry that it's a wee bit shorter in size than some of my previous chapters for this story...but I had a stopping point in mind, and I didn't want to ruin the ending by giving you all too much. lol.

Chapter 11 Proposal

I was blissfully happy to be back in Harry's arms every night and spending all our spare time together during the day. He was fascinating, humble, clever, and I couldn't get enough of him.

I knew that at some point, I would have to tell my father and mother, and I wasn't looking forward to that moment. Even as a grown man I had a healthy fear of my father, and knew he wouldn't take this new development in stride. He would rip everything away from me in one fell swoop.

It didn't take long for the rumor mill to begin churning around Hogwarts, and neither of us did anything to dissuade people from talking about our relationship.

The first time we walked into the Great Hall hand in hand, every face turned to watch. It was peculiar. Harry was used to flagrant attention being paid to his every movement, but the situation was brand new for me.

I could suddenly see why Harry made such a big deal over it. We couldn't go anywhere or do anything without whispers and pointed looks being directed at us.

No one was hostile, really, just openly curious. I even had to put an end to my weekly question and answer sessions in my classes. I had tried to hold onto that bit ever since the very first day, letting the students ask me anything at all. But when they started asking about Harry's and my sex life, I had to nip it.

"Yes, Miss Parker, we make love," I answered plainly.

She screwed up her face in confusion. "But how?"

I laughed. "I'm afraid you'll have to work that out on your own. Lucky for you you'll never be tested on the mechanics of it."

The class laughed and another student raised his hand. "Yes, Cooper."

"Does Professor Evans have a big prick?" the boy asked.

I rolled my eyes and waved the class into quiet. "Cooper, you'll never get anywhere near it, I promise, so there is no need to worry about the size." I huffed as the class gave a general 'ooh' as if someone had been summoned to the headmaster's office. "That's enough. No more questions about gay sex… or penises."

Everyone with a hand in the air lowered them in unison and I groaned. "Seriously people, can't you find anything else to talk about?"

Judging from the headshakes and the jeering it didn't sound like a plausible request, so I dismissed the class a few minutes early and sagged against my desk in defeat.

"So does he? Have a big prick?" came a voice from the doorway.

I jumped and grinned widely when I saw Harry, leaning elegantly against the doorjamb. I walked over to him and pulled him inside, shutting the door firmly behind us. "You heard that did you?"

He frowned and raised a skeptical eyebrow. "What I heard was you dodging the question... twice."

I laughed and leaned in, whispering seductively. "Would you rather I have told them you have the biggest cock I've ever seen?"

Harry laughed and blushed furiously. It made him look so edible. "Have you seen many others?" he asked curiously.

"Loads," I replied cheekily.

He frowned again. "Really?" His tone was suddenly serious.

"I was on the Slytherin Quidditch team, and we _did _all shower together," I said, trying to ease his mind.

"And after that? After I left?" He had slipped on a mask of indifference, but I could see the nervousness in his eyes. He was afraid of my answer. "I would never fault you for having another boy-"

I pushed him against the wall and kissed him deeply. "I haven't even so much as kissed anyone in the last ten years," I whispered against his lips. I suddenly realized how utterly and pathetically in love I had been with him. To choose abstinence over casual pleasure… all because deep down I knew one day I would be with Harry again, and I wanted to stay pure for him, my body and soul being for him alone.

His posture relaxed at my words and he kissed me back. "It's been the same for me," he whispered eagerly. "It's always been you, only you."

I groaned against his lips, taking in the bottom one between my teeth. I loved that he was all mine. No one would ever know him like I did. No one else would ever get to know about how sexy the gentle slope between his hipbones was, especially under candle light, or how quickly his nipples hardened under a gentle tongue. No one else would get to hear the sultry noises he made close to climaxing, or feel his sweet breath against their flesh. It was intoxicating having that kind of power.

I pushed him over to the desk and pinned him effectively against it, his back flattened to my chest. I bit him roughly on the neck, just below his ear, and he threw his head back in a deep moan. I pressed a hot trail of kisses down his neck and felt him shudder and writhe against me.

Gripping the desk in a deadly clutch, Harry bucked against me, grinding my erection against the cleft of his arse. I grabbed his hips sharply, stilling him. I didn't want to lose it so quickly.

My breath was already coming out in hot gasps as I reached under his robes, un-tucking his shirt and ran my hands over his fevered skin. He was unbuckling his trousers in time with me as I heard a noise from the doorway.

Someone had cleared their throat, trying to get our attention.

We jumped away from each other like we were on fire and I glared at the man who interrupted us.

"Father," I said sharply.

Harry was practically scowling, but Lucius paid him no mind. "Draco, I see that a change in your environment has not altered your unnatural predilection."

I rolled my eyes. "No, did you honestly think it would?"

He seemed to really think about my question. "I honestly thought it was merely tied to Potter," he answered honestly, shooting a glance at the man he obviously didn't recognize. "Rumors have come to me however, saying that you have taken a fondness of this new one, this Evans."

Harry snickered lightly, and Lucius sneered.

"Father, it's really none of your business, but yes, I'm dating James," I told him.

Lucius scoffed. "Here I thought you were so loyal to the Potter boy." He shook his head as if disappointed. "Though I can see why you chose him." He gestured to the man standing hand in hand with his son. "Well, if a likeness is all you require, I have a proposition for you, something that would make both our lives easier."

"Not interested," I said lightly.

At my words Lucius turned around and walked out the door, and for a moment, I thought it was really going to be that easy to get rid of my father. I should have known better.

When he came back he had a guest. The woman beside him was stunning. She was slim and had shoulder length hair that fell in ebony ringlets around her face. He skin was sun kissed, but still slightly pale. It wasn't until I met her shy gaze that I realized what my father was up to.

Her eyes were a brilliant shade of green. Harry's eyes.

A moment later Harry was squeezing my hand, looking at me curiously. "Do you want a moment alone?" he asked. That indifferent mask was firmly in place again. I would have to find an uninterrupted place to wipe the dejected look in his eyes away for good.

Lucius answered before I could. "Yes, Professor Evans. I would like some time alone with my son."

Harry didn't even look at him or acknowledge that he had spoken. His brilliant green eyes stayed glued to mine, waiting for my answer.

I opened my mouth to tell him to stay, but the words wouldn't come out. So I just shut my mouth and nodded.

I could see his heart breaking at my words, and I almost grabbed him and pulled him back, but I didn't. I don't even know why I had to tell him to go, why I felt the need to listen to my father's proposition.

I just needed to take care of it on my own, and know that whatever decision I came to, I would be making it for the right reasons.

Harry raised my hand, and pressed a chaste kiss on my palm. "Goodbye Draco," he whispered, so low that I barely heard him.

I wanted to shout at him, tell him it wasn't like that… but I just let him leave, and turned my attention back to my father.

--

Lucius had perfect timing as always. Draco and I were together again at last, and here he was to yank it all out from under us and tear it asunder. It had only been a few weeks since our first night together as a couple.

I could tell the buzz around the castle was already grating on him. He no longer mentioned my reverting my name back, and I think that had as much to do with his sudden fear of being attacked by the media as his respect for my decision.

We had both been gay men since we were seventeen, but neither of us had admitted it openly to more than each other and our closest family. The flack for that alone was going to be a heavy price, but to add Harry Potter into the mixture make it highly flammable.

I felt sorry for him in a way. Even after all these years, I could cope with the scrutiny, but Draco had never been trained to withstand it.

Draco's silver eyes held confusion and curiosity for the new raven-haired beauty his father was offering him. Who was I to stand in his way if that was the life he wanted? It would certainly be easier for him.

It was never my intention to make him choose between his parents and me and I knew that by choosing me, he would be doing just that. His Father would disown him and he would be left without a home, money, or even a family.

If there was still a way for him to be happy without me, then I would let him take it, and I wouldn't let him see it break me, wouldn't let him look back on his decision with regret.

So I told him goodbye, and I left the room, not intending to see him again.

--

Author's note: I'm going to refrain from threatening the faeries again, since it worked so well the last time. I hope everyone still reviews. Please read some of my other fics too, and look out for new ones being posted this week. I got so many good story requests and I'm working on 3 right now along with another idea I have in the making. So right now I'm on a roll. lol


	12. Chapter 12 The Gift

Authors Note: So this is the end. The last chapter. I'm thinking I might touch back on this story again, finding them later... or maybe the prequal...but for now the story is over. So much love to my beta's Alicia & Alexandra who helped me throughout the entire fic, sorry to you both for the lack of smut. lol. I do have other stories waiting in the wings though. lol. Thanks to everyone who reviewed. It makes me warm and fuzzy to have so many notes from people in my inbox each day. Please look out for my next stories. I have 4 beginnings being sent to Beta right now, and don't forget about the other 4 stories I currently have up ;)

Chapter 12 The Gift

Lucius stood silent and still as a statue and I waited. I refused to be the first to speak after sending Harry from the room.

I didn't have to wait long.

He practically pushed the girl over to me, she stumbled and I caught her slight form in my arms. She was lovely, really, and she smiled at me with perfect teeth. I let her go and she stood on her own, more graceful then before and pressed a soft kiss to my cheek.

Her lips were different then Harry's, fuller and sticky. I realized at once that I would have lipstick on my cheek. I smiled at her and then turned to my father, again, waiting.

He finally spoke, and looked more confident than he had when Harry was in the room. Most people would not notice the subtle shifts in his mood, but I could. His posture was slightly more relaxed and his head tilted to the right, just so.

Lucious was confident I would take this girl to be my bride, produce an heir, and live a proper wizarding family life.

I hated to disappoint him.

Well… I used to hate disappointing him. Now, I really didn't care either way.

I learned many years before that there would never be an instance when Lucious would be completely proud of me. I stopped seeking his approval the minute that discovery hit me.

"Well, son, what do you think? She's perfect isn't she?" he asked, calmly, sure of himself.

I smiled and looked at the girl lovingly. "Yes father. She is perfect… well almost perfect."

A slight frown tinted my father's features in that moment, barely noticeable by anyone who hadn't been trained by him directly. "Almost?" he asked, as if anything I said would be something he could adjust.

I gave him my best serene mask and looked him full in the eyes, gray eyes that matched my own. "Yes, almost. The main issue you see, dear father… is that she has no cock."

Lucius blanched and the girl gasped, putting her hand over her mouth to hold back a snicker.

"You see father, try as I might, I still seem to be gay," I continued. "I like cock… very much in fact."

My father's face turned an aggressive shade of purple and he started to shake slightly with rage. He raised his wand and aimed it at my chest. "No son of mine will speak to me that way," Lucius snarled.

My face hardened and I glared at him, not even bothering with my own wand. "Then I suppose I am no son of yours," I stated simply. "Because no proper father would try to pawn off some imitation of the love of my life," I spat.

"Love," he scoffed. "You speak of love, but you know nothing of it. You had a fling with a boy ten years ago and he _left_ you. Where is he now Draco? Dead? Still hiding from you? He was probably ashamed of the lifestyle he forced you into and fled."

I laughed, and it was sharp and wicked. "He didn't force anything on me, father. You are the only one who has ever tried to force my hand at anything," I pulled the fabric of my sleeve up to reveal the faded dark on my forearm. "Forcing your sixteen year old son to be branded by a Dark Lord must have been a very proud moment for you, _Lucius_," I spat his name.

Lucius paled. "Draco, see reason," he said after a long silent moment, "we can fix things, we can be a family again. Think of your mother," he breathed. "If you were able to work things out with Potter, I would leave you be, let you be happy… but you don't even know where he is."

He was lying and I knew it with every fiber of my being. He was trying to placate me, make me think he was being reasonable and I was being stubborn. But I could use him.

"And if I knew where he was? If I were to win him back?" I asked.

A subtle sneer broke across his pale features and he nodded. "I would allow it. As your father, I want nothing for you but happiness," he lied smoothly.

I smiled triumphantly. "Well it just so happens I know exactly where he is," I said.

"Oh?" Lucius asked, his face paling slightly. "And where has our hero been hiding all this time? Where is Harry Potter?"

"Right here."

I smiled widely and in slight shock as the cloak slipped from Harry's shoulders. I shouldn't have been surprised in the least, but that was Harry, always keeping me on my toes.

Harry sauntered over to me and smiled, pressing a kiss to my lips. It was a chaste thing, but it still made my heart beat wildly. He frowned though, as he saw the lipstick on my cheek and rubbed at it with his thumb, still sulking when it didn't seem to come off.

My father's eyes were wide and angry as he looked at Harry. I could see the wheels turning in his mind, slowly piecing together what he saw now, to what he recalled of the boy ten years ago. I looked over at Harry, and he was helping him.

The scar slowly reappeared on his forehead like an emblazed tattoo of victory.

Lucius growled. "So you have been with him this whole time?"

Harry and I nodded in unison. There was no need to fill him in on the fact that we had just repaired things.

"Is that why you took this job to begin with?" Lucius asked, obviously outraged.

"No," I said quickly. "I didn't know he was here when I accepted the job… but I believe it was part of the reason the position was extended to me in the first place."

My father's eyes flickered dark, almost black and he scowled at us. "I will not have my own son besmirching the Malfoy name!" he shouted, through gritted teeth.

"But father, just a moment ago you said-"

"I don't care what I said. This. Will. Not. Happen." He bit out each word as if it were an individual pain, stabbing him in the heart, which I suppose to him it might have been just that.

He raised his wand and leveled it at my chest. "Avada Ke-"

He didn't get to finish the spell because his lungs were suddenly out of air and he clutched his chest, fighting for breath. Harry only smiled serenely, having seemingly done nothing aside from twitching his index finger.

My father fell to his knees, one hand on his throat, as if willing the air to speak, call for help, and the other hand outstretched to me. I took a deep breath and thought quickly about what I wanted. I could say nothing and let Harry keep up the spell that would quickly kill my father, leaving me out of his grasp forever, or I could stop him.

Harry wasn't looking at my father, writhing and kicking on the floor, he was looking directly at me, his green eyes boring into my own. He was waiting for my instruction. Waiting for me to stop him, hoping, I was sure, that I would stop him. Harry wasn't a murderer, but I knew in that moment that he would kill for me.

Even if Lucius had only tried to kill Harry, his punishment would have been less severe, but he attacked me, and Harry would kill him for it… if I let him.

"Harry," I whispered, taking his warm hand into my own. He smiled gratefully to me and let the spell drop. As Lucius sagged on the floor, gasping air into his lung, Harry flicked his hand and bound him with his magic.

A moment later McGonagall was bursting into the room, with Hermione and several other staff members in tow. They took one look at the scene and sighed in collective relief.

"Do you have everything under control Professor Evans?" she asked, coolly.

Harry nodded at the headmistress. He glanced at me and I nodded, knowing instinctively what he was asking permission to do. "You might want to call Kingsley and let him know we have a captive Death Eater who just attempted to murder his own son," Harry snarled.

The headmistress nodded and bustled from the room.

"Are you alright, James?" Hermione asked, her eyes then flicked to me. "Draco?"

We both nodded. "Hermione, could you talk to Minerva about arranging an emergency staff meeting?" Harry asked her.

She nodded. "Of course, Harry." Then she too left the room.

He kissed me tenderly on the forehead and ran his fingers through my hair. "Are you alright?" he asked softly.

I nodded, not trusting my voice just yet.

"I told you the invisibility cloak isn't _all_ bad," he joked.

"So I see," I muttered. "It appears I will never be able to have a private conversation with my father," I laughed.

He shrugged. "I doubt they'll let me accompany you to Azkaban wearing the cloak."

"Like they would deny Harry Potter anything," I scoffed.

He smiled sadly. "Ah, yes… but I'm only the lowly professor James Evans, remember?"

"How could I forget," I sighed.

He gave me a terse smile and squeezed my hand. We both looked over at the young girl my father had brought in and nodded to her. She smiled and bowed and left the room, steering clear of Lucius, still bound on the floor.

Apparently there was no such thing as a normal day when you were dating Harry Potter or his pseudonym.

--

The seating at the head table was the same as at any dinner, but this meal was still special. A few guests appeared at the tables, people who looked familiar, but that I hadn't seen in ten years or so.

Ron was there; he didn't have far to travel, only living in a cottage with Hermione in Hogsmeade. Ginny and the rest of the Weasley family were there too. The part that disturbed me most was the Ministry officials and the press. I took a deep breath and made to stand, but Minerva beat me to in, squeezing my arm slightly as she did. She gave me a subtle but reassuring nod and walked to the podium, which was usually only there at the welcoming and farewell feasts.

She cleared her throat and smiled at the waiting students and guests. "Thank you all for coming here today, though some of you had no choice," she chuckled lightly, eyeing each of the students. "But those of you who did have the choice, Thank you."

"As I told you when I asked you all to be here tonight, we have discovered the whereabouts of Harry Potter."

Gasps resounded from the student body and the press began murmuring to their quick quotes quills.

"A select few of us have known all along, and have kept Mr. Potter's secret these ten long years, hoping that one day, he would decide to step up and take his mantle of hero among the wizarding world."

I rolled my eyes. That was not at all what I was doing, or why I was doing it.

Kingsley shot me a brief wink and I smiled. He had been called in after I told the staff the truth about my identity. He promised me immunity from charges of faking my identity, and let me keep my Auror training degrees. He seemed just to be happy to have his Ministry poster boy back.

Whatever it took I guess.

The reporters were still scribbling furiously and I was happy to see that no one was looking up at me yet; no one had seemed to figure it out.

I looked over at Draco, who never looked happier. He squeezed my hand under the table and gave me a brilliant smile.

That was why I was doing this, for him. I wanted to make him happy, and I wanted to give him everything he wanted, and what he wanted was Harry Potter. It was within my power to give it to him, so I would.

"… has been a professor here for the last eight years. He's been the students' favorite professor and a brilliant role model."

Suddenly the students at least caught on to who Minerva was talking about and all eyes were on me. Whispers and excited murmurs flooded the room. Minerva looked over her shoulder at me and smiled serenely.

"Without further ado, I present the man that most of you know as Professor James Evans, but that I have been pleased to know as Harry Potter," she finished to an uproarious applause and Draco squeezed my hand with a reassuring smile.

Minerva held out her hand and I made my way slowly around the table and up to the podium to take it. She pulled me into a fierce hug and I blushed even deeper than I had already been.

I took my place at the podium and smiled tersely at everyone. I hated public speaking. I waited until the crowd slowly let the volume die and then I spoke. "Er… Hi." I said feeling utterly embarrassed. The crowd laughed but quieted quickly for my next words.

"I know some of you feel cheated and deceived, but I assure you that was never my intention," I began, taking another deep breath. "The war was hard on me, as it was on everyone, and after I defeated Voldemort," I paused to let the crowd have their shudder in response to the hated name, " I needed to get away from all of it, the death, the sadness… even the celebrations were too much for me to handle."

"Then the longer I stayed away, the harder it was to come back. The world mourned the probable death of Harry Potter, and I thought that would be an easier truth for you all to accept."

I looked around the room, everyone silent in rapt attention. "A single voice finally broke through, after all these years. I'm sure my dearest friends and family, the only people who saw through my new persona, are still angry that it took a Malfoy to make me come back," I laughed and shot a small grin to Hermione and Minerva and out to the crowd where the Weasley's were sitting.

My voice broke slightly and I tried to laugh it off. "I hope I caused no harm in hiding for these last ten years and I hope you will all forgive me."

A cheer broke out in the assembly and I smiled. I turned to Draco and mouthed 'I love you'. He blew me a kiss and I blushed. Apparently some of the reporters caught the gesture as his face lit up with camera flashes. I rolled my eyes and returned to the waiting crowd.

" I didn't really want a bunch of fanfare, but I thought this would be better than to allow rumors to trickle out about my resurrection from death, portraying me to be even more powerful than reports about me already do," I said scowling slightly at the horde of reporters closest to the podium.

"I do not wish to be a celebrated hero. I was only fulfilling my destiny when I won the war, and I was content to do that for the safety of the wizarding world. But I was not the only person to fight that war, nor do I want to be the only person recognized for it. I just want to live peacefully as the Defense Professor, with my friends and family by my side."

Looking back at Draco, who was grinning like an idiot, I had to laugh. I loved that man more than anything, and I would even tolerate public speaking for him.

I let my glamour drop for the last time, and my scar became visible on my forehead. Camera's flashed again and whispers spread throughout the crowd, as if now they finally believed my words.

Glaring sternly at the student tables I addressed them directly. "From now on it's Professor Harry Potter," I said. They looked slightly worried until I flashed them a smile.

I turned around and made my way back to my seat, where Draco was standing, waiting for me. He grabbed my face between his palms and leaned in to whisper against my lips. "You're such a show off, Potter."

I grinned. "You know you love it, Malfoy," I replied.

Draco laughed lightly. "Fuck yes I do," he whispered as he kissed me.

Letting the whole world drown out around us I threw myself into the kiss, melting against him and pulling him closer. Our tongues tangled together and –

--

"Okay, okay we get it," said the thin blonde boy across the table.

"Seriously dad, can't you get through even one minute of the story without grossing us out?" asked the ebony haired girl beside him.

Harry and Draco both chuckled, leaning into one another, their hands intertwined under the table. "It's sort of impossible to tell without the details," Draco said, backing up his husband.

"Well, there were way too many details," the blonde said, rolling his eyes.

The girl laughed but nodded in agreement. "It really was just a simple question of how you decided to have us," she said plainly. She was a lovely girl and they were celebrating her seventeenth birthday at her favorite wizarding restaurant. Her hair was long flowing black ringlets and she had a pale face and dark gray eyes.

Draco rolled his eyes, but his smile was still warm. "Lucia, you know we didn't _have_ you. At least not in the traditional sense."

Her friendly sneer was an exact replica of Draco's and it always made Harry laugh. "Lucia Narsissa Potter, you behave yourself," Harry scolded lightly.

The blonde laughed. He was twenty now, and had hair almost as pale as Draco's tan skin and emerald green eyes to match his other father's eyes.

Draco looked smirked at his son. "Evan James Malfoy, so you think that just because you're a professional seeker now that you are above being called out like your sister?"

He laughed slightly. "Yes, of course I do. You always told me that being a Quidditch star made me better than everyone else."

Draco blushed and turned to Harry, who was scowling. "I never said that," he muttered, his hands up in the air in surrender.

"Of course you didn't. You would never say a thing like that," Harry replied sarcastically.

Draco shrugged and smiled, turning back to his children. "To answer your question the short way, Lucia, we wanted a family, both of us. Loathe as I was to do my fathers wishes, I always did want an heir and it made your grandmother very happy, and Harry always wanted a family. It was his deepest desire… after me of course," he finished smugly.

"Of course," the other three said in unison, laughing.

Harry smiled at his love and kissed him on the cheek. "We found an agency that experimented with magical DNA signatures and voila," he said.

"You were practically custom designed, the both of you. Which is why you're both so beautiful," Draco added.

Lucia rolled her eyes. "That had to be a fortune," she whispered. She always knew she had been adopted just never to exact circumstances. She wasn't blind and could tell that she and Evan each looked like a perfect mix between their parents, but that was physically impossible.

It had been her birthday present to receive the full story. Though she didn't know how her brother got to cash in on it as well.

"You should know that nothing is every out of reach for a Malfoy or a Potter," Draco replied, Harry nodding beside him.

"It was only the overall look that we were able to alter. It was simply a potion that your mother's drank that Draco helped design that imbued the genetic traits we wished to pass on to each of you. Personalities we didn't touch, we just selected a mother who was an acceptable surrogate," Harry told them.

"So that's the story of the great Harry Potter and his love Draco Malfoy?" Evan asked, chuckling.

"I prefer to think of it as the story of the Magnificent Draco Malfoy and his love Harry Potter," Draco replied.

Harry laughed. "I don't really care what you call it, but it was really only a small part of our story."

Draco nodded and squeezed Harry's hand. "True. We did a lot before and after that, but without those weeks, there wouldn't have been you two."

Lucia smiled. "Thanks dads."

"Yeah, thanks," Evan added, rolling his eyes.

The whole table chuckled and Harry and Draco moved closer together, their bodies still fitting together like two missing puzzle pieces. 'I love you' was whispered by both, low enough not to earn scowls from their embarrassed children, but loud enough that they each knew it was true. Forever.

Authors Note: Please review!! pretty please with Harry and Draco on top


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